What you really want
by nativefloridian
Summary: Tom is forced to answer some important questions after that argument in 2x10.
1. Chapter 1

Jed Chandler was in the office tidying up in anticipation of his son's scheduled call when the computer beeped early. He clicked to accept the call, and was greeted by an agitated face.

"Hey Tom, running ahead of schedule today?"

"Hmm?" a quick glance at the clock confirmed his father's statement. "Guess so. How are the kids?"

"They're fine. Hanging out with Ava as we speak. How are you doing?"

Tom sighed.

"Crazy, as usual."

"Based on your expression, I'd have guessed crazier than usual."

"Sorry, I just came from a… discussion… with Dr. Scott."

Jed felt his eyebrows rise at both the tone and form of address. Dr. Scott had been 'Rachel' to his son for a while now, and he wasn't blind to the affection that crept into his son's voice and expression when he mentioned her name.

"What happened?"

"I can't get into it on an unsecured line dad, but she's done something that I _have_ to punish her for. If I don't, it'll undermine discipline on the entire ship. Most of the ship thinks she did the right thing."

"Did she?"

"No. Not according to the law." He paused and shook his head. "I mean, in the long run, probably, it would have ended that way regardless. But she just…did it. No protocol, no trials, nothing. Didn't even run it by me." He paused. "I thought scientists were all about protocols …she violated both what I _assumed_ were universal medical ethics and basic safety protocols."

Jed felt his eyebrows rise all the way to his receding hairline.

" _Basic safety protocols?"_

"She tested it on herself without telling anyone beforehand."

" _Damn_. This doctor of yours must be either insanely confident or insanely brave."

"I'd say both. Doesn't make it any less insane." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what to do here, dad."

"It might help to figure out why, exactly, you're mad at her." Tom blinked at him, and he clarified. "Are you upset that she did something debatably wrong, that she kept you out of the loop, that she risked herself as a test subject, or that you now have to punish her?"

"I…don't know."

"You might want to think about that, son. And once you figure it out, you should think about _why_ you feel that way." Tom nodded and they sat in companionable silence for a moment. Jed noticed Tom looking over his shoulder to the doorway, where he found Mrs. Tophet proffering a cup of tea. "Thank you. Can you send Ash and Sam in?"

. . . . .

"Is this really what you want?"

"This has never been about what I want."

He moved towards the closed hatch, hand on the door, but was stopped by a question aimed at his back.

"What _do_ you want?"

He paused, considering the question, but not turning around. Truth is, he'd already considered it at length. That's why it hurt so much.

"It doesn't matter. It was a long shot before, and it's impossible now."

"What you want still matters."

"I wish you'd thought of that before you killed Sorenson." He said, still speaking towards the hatch. "Before I was forced to turn you over to the courts. What I want…can no longer be."

"What? Why?"

He took a slow, deep breath before opening the door for her. He gazed at her with sad eyes for a long moment before turning to Smith, speaking in the most normal tone he could manage. "Please escort Dr. Scott to her lab. She has a lot of work to do."

"Ma'am, if you'll follow me."

He was aware of her puzzled gaze, of his whispered name, but refused to meet it, turning back towards his desk. Several seconds passed.

"Ma'am?"

"I know the way." She replied softly. Her footsteps retreated out of his stateroom before the door shut. He waited until those footsteps turned the corner before he put his head in his hands and groaned in pure frustration. _What I want... what I want. Dammit, Rachel. If you really don't know, I certainly can't tell you now._


	2. Chapter 2

Captain Chandler walked into the lab, finding only Bertrise. She didn't look particularly happy that he was here.

"Hey Bertrise. Where's Dr. Scott?"

"You should know." She shot back, not even bothering to look at him. "Ask your guard dogs."

He blinked. Bertrise was certainly learning more than medicine from her mentor. He suddenly felt the need to justify himself to the young girl.

"Look, I know you don't like me right now. But I had to do _something_. She can't just take matters into her own hands. Navy ships don't work like that."

"I know, you're the captain. Whatever you say goes. 'Do this, do that, work with that _monster_.' Never mind that your crew are _people_ with _feelings_."

"I know he was a bastard. I'm not saying he didn't deserve to die, but there's protocols to follow."

"Protocols!?" She exclaimed, whirling to face him. "You didn't have to work with him! The way he talked to her, the way he _looked_ at her! If I had a choice between working with him and taking what I needed, I'd just take it, too!"

"I know he was …an unsettling fellow, looked at you funny…"

"He never looked at you like he looked at her!" Tom looked askance at her. "You're a _man_." He sucked in a breath as the implication hit home. "And you made her spend _every day_ with that creep, who spent every second _flirting_ with her… and she had to play along, just to keep him talking. I don't know how she did it."

Tom looked at her in horror. What Bertrise was describing to him made his blood run cold. This didn't excuse Rachel's actions, but it did make them more understandable.

"You didn't know? She didn't tell you?"

He winced in memory. He knew why she hadn't come to him. _Because I threw my dead wife in her face and told her that her feelings didn't matter._

"No. She didn't. I wish I'd known. I'm sorry, Bertrise."

"Tell her, not me."

"I will, Bertrise. I will."

"She's in her room."

"Thank you."

. . . . . .

Chandler knocked on her door, guarded by Miller

"Dr. Scott?" he knew he'd lost the right to call her by her first name. "Dr. Scott, may I come in?"

"What is it, captain?" the words were polite, but the tone was sharp enough to cut steel.

"I…need to talk to you. May I please come in?" He waited for a reply, the seconds dragging out. He did his best to ignore Miller, who was diligently _not_ listening to his captain plead at the door. Eventually, he sighed and muttered to himself. "Guess not." He stepped back and began to turn away from the door, but then he heard the latch opening.

She stood there, door cracked, not saying anything, looking him over. Deciding he wasn't here for a fight, she sighed and let him in.

"What is it? She asked again, but her tone was more wary than sharp now.

He closed the door behind him and turned to face her, making himself meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, even warier than she was before.

"I just talked to Bertrise." He said. "I…didn't know what you were going through with Niels, how he treated you." She looked at him, apparently unmoved. "If I had known, I'd have…well, that no longer matters, I guess. But I understand why you felt you couldn't come to me, and for that, I am truly sorry."

He watched her face, looking for any reaction, but she had it well under control. _Damn_ British stoicism. Finally he gave up trying to decipher her.

"I… needed to tell you that. And that in the future, no matter how upset with you I may be, you can still come to me for help. I owe you at least that much." With no reaction still, he turned back to the hatch, opening it.

"Tom?" it was quiet, but commanded his full attention; he turned back around. "What _would_ you have done?"

"I'd have kicked his ass." He replied instantly. The corner of her mouth quirked, and he gave a rueful chuckle. "We're not that different, I suppose." She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. He smiled back at her. "Good night."

"Good night, Tom."

He stepped out of her cabin feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Things weren't solved between them, but they were moving in the right direction. He didn't notice Miller's grin aimed at his back.


	3. Chapter 3

"I _can_ still use my powers for good, you know."

"I never doubted that you would, Rachel. I want you to know that." His tone of voice – and the use of her first name for the first time since their shouting match – caught her attention. Once he had it, Tom glanced around, seeing who all was present before continuing quietly. "I can even see the good came that from his death…I just can't condone it. You have to know that."

She looked at him, surprised, before nodding acknowledgement of his situation.

"I know. I just – " She shrugged. What's done was done. "So you still have some shrapnel in you, you know." She said, changing the subject. "It needs to come out as soon as possible."

"Not until we deal with this sub."

"And how long will that take?"

"I don't know. Maybe a few days." She looked at him disapprovingly. "But probably sooner. Ramsey seems to be chomping at the bit. Honestly, so am I. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back to spreading this cure of yours."

"And what precisely will you be doing during these 'few days'?"

"Rachel, we don't have time to get into it. There's literally a whole course on anti-sub warfare at Annapolis."

She rolled her eyes.

"I meant physically. Please tell me that this only involves you sitting on the bridge. You're not in a condition to perform your usual physical heroics, and I'm going to put that in writing."

"You do realize that I'm the captain, right? I can jump in a RHIB whenever I want to."

"And even captains are subject to doctor's orders. So if you're going to be a stubborn fool and delay necessary surgery, I'm going to put you on – what's the term? – oh, yes, limited duty."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me."

"You're a civilian."

"Milowski and Rios aren't."

He grunted, acknowledging a point in her favor.

"That's better." She said, reaching for the bandages. "Now hold still…"

. . . . .

Tom looked on as the landing party began to herd the kids out the door. God, he hoped this worked. He lingered in his thoughts as the rest of the landing party geared up until Rachel appeared.

"Hey," he said, getting her attention. "Be safe."

She turned to face him.

"You too. And be quick about it, I need to get that shrapnel out of you before it nicks your liver."

"You doctors and your scalpels. Bloodthirsty lot, you are." She gave him a look. "Alright, alright, I'll be quick about it!" he said. "Do _try_ to follow Mike's …directions. They're for your own good."

"You know how I am about following …'directions'."

He laughed out loud.

"Do I ever. But you're telling me to follow doctor's orders, so I thought maybe we could make a deal."

She laughed, then gave him a crooked smile, like she was enjoying a private joke.

"What?" he asked.

"I missed this."

"Me too." He looked at her, suddenly serious. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You didn't deserve it."

"Really? I don't regret Niels' death, but I understand why you were upset with me."

"I don't think you do." She looked at him, confused. "I nearly choked on my food when you said you'd injected yourself with an experimental strain of the virus. I was furious that you'd risked your life – _again_ – and you hadn't even discussed it with me!" he paused to take a breath. "And the kicker was that I knew, even though you'd survived this insane risk, I was going to have to _punish_ you." He glanced around and stepped closer before continuing quietly. "Between you, me, and the bulkhead, that bastard deserved everything you did to him and more. And after talking to Bertrise, I wanted to revive him so I could kill him myself."

Rachel stared at him, stunned at the implication.

"So… _please_ be careful out there, okay?" She nodded, trying to find her voice, eventually replying.

"You too."

"See you soon. Now go. We'll come back for you as quickly as we can."


	4. Chapter 4

Michener knocked on the hatch to the captain's quarters. Normally, it'd be the other way around, but Chandler was still recovering from surgery to remove the last bit of shrapnel.

"Enter!"

Upon entering, he found Dr. Scott packing up her medkit as the captain moved to stand, befitting the entrance of the president.

" _Sit down_ , Tom! What part of 'sit and rest' don't you get? I _just_ stitched those muscles back together."

Tom looked at him apologetically, but he obeyed doctor's orders and lowered himself back to the couch.

"Sorry." He mumbled to her. "Reflex."

Michener smothered a smile. Only Dr. Scott would talk to him like that. Or look at him like she was looking at him now; a look that said he'd better take care of himself, or she'd come back and kick his ass.

"Evening, Sir." Chandler said.

"Evening, Captain, Doctor." He replied. "It's good to see you recovering nicely. Thank you, Dr. Scott."

She shrugged.

"Just doing my job. Speaking of which, Rios needs some help this shift. Would you make sure this one – " she pointed " - doesn't do anything he shouldn't?"

"I'll try." He told her, amused. Somehow, he felt like he had less influence over the captain than she did.

"Call me if he doesn't listen."

"Hey!" they both turned to the couch. "What is this, mutiny?"

"Of course not, Tom." She smirked at him. "He outranks you, not the other way around. And I'm a civilian." She moved towards the door. "I'll check back in a few hours." She said on her way out.

"That woman – " The captain said in exasperation.

"Cares about you."

"Still. It's infuriating sometimes." He said, gesturing to the empty seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just looking to see where we were at, now that the sub's out of the way..."

. . . .

"…and we're scheduled to arrive in St. Louis in four days." Tom said, wrapping up his status update for Michener.

"So then we start up a civilian government, and rebuild the military."

"Not going to lie, sir. I'm glad at least half of that job is yours."

"I know, it's a lot. Finding senators, representatives, staffers, judges – I do wonder if we have enough qualified people to fill congress _and_ the courts." Michener saw something briefly cross the captain's face. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

"You have something you're concerned about."

Tom looked at him for a long moment.

"How long until the courts are up?"

"Not sure. Why?"

"Dr. Scott…would be in limbo…her charges…"

Michener thought about it for a few seconds

"We could probably work that out pretty quickly, you know." He said, watching the captain's reaction. "but that's not really what you're worried about, is it?"

"No." he admitted. "I feel responsible for the situation."

"Why? You didn't kill him."

"I'm the one who backed her into that corner. And the more I hear after the fact, the worse it gets."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rios told me how excited Sorenson was to work with her, going on and on about how he'd finally get to work with his idol; he'd been following her work for years, going to her speeches, even shaking her hand once." He shook his head and went on. "And once he did start working with her, well – Bertrise said he flirted with her the whole time. And that Rachel had to play along, just to keep him talking."

Michener felt a shudder run down his spine. He hadn't spent that much time with Sorenson, but it was enough to be thoroughly repulsed by the idea of him flirting.

"It doesn't excuse what she did, but I can't imagine what having someone like that fixated on you day in and day out would do to your state of mind."

"And she didn't say _anything_?"

"No. And that _is_ my fault. She told me she didn't want to work with him. I could see on her face how much she didn't want to work with him. But – " he paused, taking a deep breath. "But I insisted. I told her that we needed the cure airborne as soon as possible. And, if I could talk to the man who killed my wife, she could too."

Michener winced.

"I then left her pretty much alone, so focused on that damned sub…I took her progress reports at face value, not noticing how _she_ was doing…"

"Captain. We were in a life-or-death situation with 'that damned sub'. And, truthfully, the courts would have eventually executed him anyway. If his …unorthodox execution… accelerated the creation of the cure…I can forgive it. Most people would." His voice softened a bit. "I imagine you would, too, if you weren't the captain."

" _I_ have. The captain _can't_. But I know I'm biased as hell, and the captain can't be." He said, his hand unconsciously going towards his bandages.

"Hmmm, yes. I can see that. This is what, the third time she's saved your life?"

"Fourth. And that's not counting my family or my crew."

"Well, from my somewhat less biased perspective, your judgement isn't that far off the mark. And I can certainly see that extenuating circumstances were in play – for her and for you. So relax, captain. We'll find a solution."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Now rest. And don't stand on ceremony with me until she clears you. I don't want to deal with her either."

Chandler laughed out loud – and then winced at the pain.

"Good night, then, sir." He said, nodding respectfully instead of escorting him to the door.

"Good night, Captain."


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel hummed quietly on the way back to her room, smile on her face, the words _Find me_ repeating in her head. Of course, she knew where to find him right now, room 33. But she sensed he wasn't quite ready yet – since they had been so busy saving the world, he had not had a chance to properly mourn Darien. Hadn't even had a proper memorial service with his family. But she knew, now, how he felt about her; for now, that was enough. Between that and her official pardon, she practically floated down the hallway.

"…The cure?" a voice intruded upon her reverie. She looked at the speaker and a chill ran down her spine as she was instantly transported back to that night she'd taken a shortcut back to her college dorm. This guy was shorter, and more squirrelly, but somehow she _knew_ he was more dangerous than the creep she'd met that night. Her euphoria evaporated; she was suddenly very sober.

"Sorry, I missed that."

"Are you the doc that created the cure? I missed the docking of the ship. Could I get it from you?"

 _Hands are dangerous._ The words from the self-defense class she'd taken after that night filtered through her, and she had an idea.

"Well, you probably got it just walking into the hotel. But if you want to be sure, we can do that." She walked towards him as casually as she could. "Hold out your hands." she said, raising her own out in front of her, fingers spread, in demonstration. He held his hands up to meet hers, and she interlaced her fingers with his, gripping his hands firmly.

His eyes went wide as he realized what she had done, but it was too late. She clung tightly to his hands; Because she had interlaced their fingers, he couldn't break her grip. He tried twisting her arms, but she was more flexible than he was. He shoved her towards the wall, and they tripped over a chair; he landed on top of her. She screamed as she fell, but she never let go.

"TOM! TOM I NEED YOU!" She yelled, knowing his room was just around the corner, continuing to wrestle with the stranger, rolling them onto their sides. She kneed him in the groin as hard as she could, hearing her dress rip as she did so. Within ten seconds, the captain was barreling down the hall, jacket half unbuttoned, and she heard the impact as Tom tackled him. There was a sickening crunch of at least one bone, causing her to close her eyes as she flinched. Then she heard a click, and Tom's voice.

" _Stop."_ Her eyes popped open and she saw Tom holding a gun to the man's head. She felt her heart stop when she realized that the gun in question was _not_ navy issue. The man stopped struggling, and Tom addressed her.

"Rachel, you can let go now. It's over." She nodded, but she still had to force herself to relax her grip. She heard footsteps running down the hall and found Burke, Green, and Tex standing there, with more sailors coming in behind them.

"You okay?" Tex asked as Rachel sat up.

"I'm fine." Tex looked like he wasn't convinced; he had opened his mouth to press her on it when he recognized the man the captain had knocked to the floor.

"Son of a bitch. It's you." He said, pulling up the immune by the collar as he turned to Lt. Green. "Hey Danny, look, it's this asshole."

"So it is. Long way from Florida." He turned to the captain, who was now helping Dr. Scott off the floor. "What do you want to do with him?"

"For now, find the nearest cell and lock him up. Lt. Green - take a team and sweep the building. Start with her room, just in case there's any surprises in there. I'll call the president and let him know that Rachel's not going _anywhere_ without a protective detail." He began to steer her towards his room. "Let's get you out of this hallway. Hopefully he was alone, but I'd rather you were behind a locked door right now." Rachel nodded, moving with him a few steps before stopping suddenly, aware of a new sensation.

"Uh, Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Can you walk behind me? Like, right behind me? I heard my dress tear, and it feels… drafty… back there."

"I'll do you one better." He said, unbuttoning the last buttons on his jacket and then wrapping it around her. Its warmth was welcome, and she could tell that it was long enough to cover anything that should remain hidden.

"Thank you."

Once inside the room, she moved to the couch as he double checked the lock. Miller's shadow was visible under the door, posted there by Lt. Green.

"Want some tea? I'm sure it's terrible American tea, but I did see some on top of the minifridge."

"It will have to do. Thank you." She listened as he began to gather the tea, letting herself – forcing herself – to relax. She felt the letdown as the adrenaline left her system, and saw her hands begin to shake. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling into a ball. Suddenly, he was next to her on the couch, tea forgotten, putting an arm around her.

"Rachel, you okay?"

"I'm just processing, now that the adrenaline's gone. I could have - " She felt his arm tighten around her as she spoke, and chose not to finish that sentence, instead leaning into his embrace.

"But you didn't. Thank god you didn't."

They stayed that way for a time, not wanting to move and not needing to speak. Eventually, though, Tom remembered he needed to make a phone call. Mercifully, the phone was right at the end of the couch. When he moved to reach for the receiver, she shifted along with him, causing him to blink at what he saw.

"Rachel… did you really attend the President's Inaugural ball _barefoot_?" he asked, amusement creeping into his expression.

"Perhaps…"

"Couldn't find shoes to go with the dress?"

"Well, the only ones the judge's daughter had that sort of fit me and matched the dress were these strappy stilettos…I've never learned how to walk in stilettos, and I value my dignity too much to wobble around in front of the cameras."

"I'm so glad you're a practical woman." He told her, pulling her close and kissing the crown of her head. The thought of her attempting the fight in the hallway on unsteady feet sent a chill down his spine. "Don't ever change."

Then the phone rang; Tom picked it up.

"Yes sir, I was just about to call you"

"Rachel's fine, sir. She fought him off. But she can't leave tomorrow. Not without a full protection detail. There's still a few immune cultists out there."

"She's secure now, sir, my crew is sweeping the building, and we've got a sentry on the door." His arm tightened around her as he smiled at her. "We've got her surrounded." She returned the smile and burrowed into his warmth.

"He wants to talk to you."

She sighed, taking the phone.

"Yes?"

"Really, I'm fine. Exhausted, but fine. The dress I borrowed is ruined though – tell Lisa I'm sorry."

"No, I don't think I'd be able to make the flight tomorrow. I'm too tired to pack."

"Can we discuss rescheduling tomorrow? My capacity to think right now is somewhat less than stellar." She handed the phone back to Tom and curled back into him, closing her eyes.

"Sir, she really is about to pass out. How about we come to your office tomorrow morning at 0900?"

"Good night, sir." After he hung up the phone, he turned his eyes back to the woman in his arms.

"Rachel, you can't sleep like this." Her only response was to hold him tighter. "Okay, allow me to rephrase. If I sleep like this, my back will hurt all day tomorrow." She groaned, but she relaxed her grip. He rose and guided her to the bed, pulling back the comforter. Then he went to a drawer and pulled out some sweats, leaving them next to her on the bed before moving towards the bathroom to give her privacy.

"Tom."

"Yes?"

"Can you - ?" she asked turning to put her back to him; she'd let his jacket fall off her shoulders and pulled it snugly around her waist.

"Of course." He said, chastely unzipping the back of her dress before stepping away. "I'll be back in a minute. Call if you need anything." He stopped at the dresser again, grabbing some sleepwear for himself.

When he came out, Rachel was sitting up, knees at her chest once more, drowning in his oversized sweats and a blanket wrapped tightly around her.

"You okay?"

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"You're exhausted." She just nodded. "Nightmares?" he guessed.

"Yes." He sat next to her and felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. "The reason… the reason I was able to fight off this guy is …he wasn't the first one. There was this guy in college – it was late, I was tired from running a 20-hour test in the lab, I took the shortcut back to my dorm…this guy tonight instantly reminded me of him."

Tom put both arms around her and pulled her close. His heart broke at the knowledge that Rachel had endured so much before he'd even met her. Her first assailant had probably had other motives than killing her, but that didn't make it any better.

"I'm sorry"

"Not your fault."

"I'm still sorry you had to deal with it."

They sat there for a while, until he felt her muscles relax and her breathing slow. Very, very gently, he laid her back down and tried to tuck her in. Her hand popped out, however, and grabbed his firmly. He'd intended to sleep on the pullout couch, but he obeyed the unspoken request and lay on top of the comforter next to her, leaving his hand in hers. When she rolled towards him and pulled his arm close, using it as a pillow, he smiled gently and drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel woke to the sound of drawers being pulled open. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless. She surrendered and looked at the source of the noise, namely, Tom in his boxers, rooting around in the closet.

"Well _hello_." She heard herself say.

"And good morning to you too, sleeping beauty. Was just about to wake you." He replied, pulling on a shirt. "We're due in Michener's office in forty-five minutes. Kara brought your bag over."

Rachel squinted at the clock and groaned, loathe to leave the cocoon of blankets she was in.

"I can get ready in only fifteen minutes, you know."

"Good, because we need to leave in twenty-five." He finished with his shirt and moved onto the pants. She decided that watching him dress was a perfectly acceptable use of time; he chose to be amused by this. Once he reached for his shoes and sat on the bed, he teased her. "You know, I'm not sure how much hot water this hotel really has. You might want to get in there."

"You used it all?" She fake-pouted.

"Me? No. Us sailors are used to tepid showers. But there are a bunch of civilians here." He stood to offer her a hand. "C'mon. I'll be here when you get back."

"Promise?" she asked, sitting up.

"Promise." He pulled her to her feet and smiled at her. They stood like that for a moment, then he nudged her towards the bathroom. "Go on." He said gently. "Your bag's in there."

. . . . . .

True to his word, he was waiting for her on the couch. In front of the couch, there was a cup of tea and a mostly-full mug of coffee. She immediately stole his coffee. He looked on in disbelief as she dared him to say anything with her eyes; he held up his hands in surrender and went to make more.

"Feel awake yet?" he asked, standing next to her after she'd finished her purloined coffee.

"Getting there." She replied. "Tom…thank you. For everything."

"You did the hard part." He said, reaching over to squeeze her free hand. "And I wish you hadn't had to do it at all."

She put down her mug and turned to face him, trying to find the right words. The image of Rachel actually having trouble speaking made Tom smile. It happened so rarely, and it made her look adorable.

"I – " she finally began.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Lt. Burk's voice came through.

"Sir, it's time to go."

"Coming, Lieutenant." He briefly put his hand on her cheek. "Later."

. . . . .

Tom smiled as they left Michener's office, replaying the fireworks in his head.

" _You do remember I'm a civilian, right,_ _Jeff_ _? You can't just order me around. If you want to order around a doctor, that's what Milowski is for."_

 _Tom bit back a laugh at the look on the president's face. He wasn't sure if it was the use of his first name with no title, or the sheer shock that Rachel wasn't just following along like everyone else._

" _I'm glad you find this amusing, Captain." Michener said, decidedly peeved._

" _Sorry, sir. Just remembering all the many times she's disobeyed my…instructions…in the past year. My favorite was probably when she teamed up with the_ _ **entire crew**_ _to disobey direct orders."_

"And what are _you_ smiling at?" Rachel asked, interrupting his reverie. He looked at her briefly before replying.

"You're hell on military decorum, you know that?"

"The hell with decorum. If he's going to pretend we're on a first-name basis, he can at least make it a request." In the end, she'd agreed to go to Nebraska as planned, because it _was_ the right thing to do. But only just; she was still displeased at being sent away so quickly. She thought she'd have at least a few days to rest for the first time in…she couldn't remember how long.

"He's a politician. They like to use your name; it's about getting youto think he's your friend." She snorted. "You want to grab lunch at the hotel bar?"

"At the hotel bar, at a restaurant, anywhere but his office." She said, referencing Michener's offer to bring in food so that they (or at least him and Tom) could have a working lunch.

"For once, I'm in complete agreement with you."

. . . . .

They'd actually found a private booth at a bar on the way back to the hotel. Tom glanced over at Lieutenants Green and Burk, sitting at the bar, who had been quietly following them. He knew this conversation would require his full attention, and he was glad they were there.

"You were hungry." He told Rachel, who was finishing up her lunch.

"I thought you were too." She replied, looking at his plate, barely touched.

"I was. But I tend to lose my appetite when I get nervous."

"Nervous? The captain of the Nathan James, nervous about – what, exactly?"

"Rachel…" he said in a quelling tone, which caused her teasing look to drop from her expression.

"What is it, Tom?" she asked, reaching over to put her hand on his. He responded by taking it and wrapping it in both of his.

"I love you, Rachel." He looked up from their linked hands. "I haven't said anything because, well, I still love Darien. And I know I haven't come to terms with her death yet. I've been doing my best to ignore how much it hurts, to focus on the mission. But now – the mission's over, and the kids are coming – it's going to rip what little scar tissue I have right off, and that's not fair to you."

"But after last night, I realized, the only thing worse than losing Darien would be losing you too. So I'm going to be a selfish jerk and ask if you're willing to be patient with me while I – while all of us – work through this. I know that there will be times I look at Ashley and see Darien's eyes, and I honestly don't know what I'll do when Sam wakes up from a nightmare and asks for his mother. And they'll probably resent you for being there when their mother isn't."

"Tom, I can handle that." He looked at her in disbelief. "Really. I'd be surprised if you _didn't_ feel that way. And honestly, if you didn't, you wouldn't be the man I fell for. As for the kids, I'd prefer it if they didn't resent me, obviously. But I understand it. You read my file, right?"

"Yes…?"

"You saw that my mother died too, right? I was about their age."

"I didn't catch the date, no."

"And they still have you. Which, honestly, is more than I had." He looked askance at her; that same file had said her father was still alive, at least before the pandemic, anyway. "I never forgave my father for letting her die. I moved away as soon as possible, going off to college a year early."

"He…let her die?"

"We were missionaries in Africa – she contracted malaria, and the doctor begged him to let her treat my mother, but he refused. Said it was up to god, not man." She watched the horror on his face and felt a surge of affection. "That's another thing I love about you, you know. You'll do whatever it takes for the ones you care about. I saw it in Baltimore over and over again; the look in your eyes when you asked me for the vaccine for your family, the way you dragged Alicia back to the ship even though she didn't want to go. The relief in your eyes when you saw me and Kara and Tex."

"I felt so guilty for leaving you there. I should never have left you alone in a strange place, surrounded by people we'd only just met. Once I realized what was going on – thank god Tex found you."

They sat there quietly for a long moment, letting their words settle. Eventually, Rachel spoke quietly and reluctantly.

"I need to go pack."

"I know." He said, squeezing her hand while giving her a tight smile.

"It's only a couple of weeks."

"I know." He repeated. "I'll still miss you."

"Cheer up, Tom. I'll call every day."

"You'd better." He groused playfully.

"That's better." She said. "Shall we?"

. . . . . .

Tom held her hand in the back of the humvee. He still wasn't happy about this trip taking place, but he'd at least gotten Rachel a three-man team of professional operators as personal bodyguards. She'd never be unprotected. Of the three, he only knew Wolf, but the Australian had vouched for the others, who had been brought in from Norfolk. Wolf was on the other side of the back seat, looking out the window, keeping an eye out for trouble. The other two were up front with Lt. Green, who had offered to drive them all to the flight line.

He felt her hand squeeze his as the plane came into view. He squeezed back. As they came to a stop, Wolf took the lead.

"Why don't you two check out the plane? Green and I can watch the vehicle."

Tom spared Wolf a grateful glance as he and Green exited the vehicle, giving him and Rachel a measure of privacy.

"Rachel…" he said, pulling her tightly to him. "…stay safe. You have to. I need you back."

"I will. Promise." She told him, eyes prickling as she clung to him in return. "I'll be counting the days."

"Well, until then…" He leaned down, intending to give her a gentle goodbye kiss – a non-verbal promise to wait for her return. However, that intention went out the window almost immediately. By the time they came up for air, they looked down to realize that she was sitting in his lap with her shirt all askew. She giggled, and Tom etched that wonderful sound into his memory. He also wondered what other noises he could get out of her.

"Sorry." He said, tugging her shirt back down.

"No you're not."

"Oh, but I am." He replied, voice low, with a look that made it clear he was sorry he had to pull the shirt back _down_. And damn if she didn't agree with him.

"Oh, bloody hell, Tom _._ Are you always this evil?"

"Come back and find out." He told her, a gleam in his eye.

"I will, you jerk."

Tom glanced outside and saw Wolf half-looking his way, not wanting to interrupt but needing to get going.

"You better." He said, reaching for the door handle. She sighed and let him guide her feet to the ground. He turned in his seat to face her, touching his forehead to hers. "Don't you leave their sides for a minute, Rachel. You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Good. Now go on. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can come back."

"Not going to walk me to the plane?" she teased. Tom raised an eyebrow at her. She knew damn well why he wasn't standing up right now; his current state was entirely her fault.

"You're a strong, independent woman, with three armed bodyguards. You'll make it."

"Cad." She groused playfully, before kissing his cheek. "See you soon."

"I'll be counting the days too. Be careful."


	7. Chapter 7

"…So only a couple more days until Dad and the kids get here." Tom's voice was somewhat impeded by the static of the sat phone, but Rachel would never complain about their daily lunchtime call.

"You ready for them?" she asked.

"Well, I've got the room for them. Whether _I'm_ ready for them is up for debate."

"Surely the captain of the legendary Nathan James can handle two young children."

He could hear the smirk that accompanied that comment.

"You ever watch kids for more than 24 hours?"

"Yes. It's not that hard."

He scoffed.

"You were the cool aunt, weren't you?"

"I have no siblings." She said primly. "They were my best friend's kids."

"Okay, honorary aunt, then. Same principle."

Suddenly he heard a loud thud over the line, and a sharp intake of breath.

"What was that?"

"Tom, I'm going to have to cut this short. Tell your family I said hi, and that I'll see them in a couple of days. And tell Sam to stop picking on his little sister, or I'll kick his butt." And then suddenly, the line went dead. What the hell was that? The kids were coming in soon, but Rachel wasn't due back until next week. And he knew she remembered how old Sam wa– _oh shit._ He stood quickly, grabbed his go bag from the closet, and walked out of his office straight to Kara's desk, hoping to find –

"Lieutenant Green."

"Sir."

"Where's your go bag?"

"Aboard ship, sir. What's up?"

"Dr. Scott's in trouble."

Kara looked between them briefly. She knew where Dr. Scott was, and that that was where the captain was headed. Danny, too.

"I can call them sir, ask them to send it to the air field."

"Excellent. Thank you, Kara."

. . . .

They were greeted at the air field by Miller and Burk, each holding two duffel bags, causing Chandler to look at Green as they drove up.

"You have more than one go bag?"

"No sir."

The two men saluted as they exited the vehicle.

"Thanks for the gear. Didn't realize there would be quite so much of it."

"Captain Slattery said we could come too. Even sent along some extra supplies." Burk said, hefting one of the bags, which gave a distinctly metallic _clank_.

Tom looked them over briefly, then nodded approvingly.

"The more, the merrier." He looked around and spotted an idling Cessna. "That one looks ready to go. Shall we?"

. . . . .

Wolf didn't look up from his scope as the team from the Nathan James approached his position outside the clinic trailer; he'd seen them coming a mile away, literally.

"Glad to see you guys."

"What's the situation?" the captain asked, all business.

"Well, there were a whole bunch of them – pretty sure they're immunes, they've referred to Ramsey at least once. Smith took out eight before he went down," Wolf pointed at multiple bodies sprawled untidily on the ground outside the clinic "and it sounds like Richardson's pretty badly injured inside the clinic. On their side, I'd estimate they have about nine guys left alive, but at least three of them are seriously injured." Wolf said with a bloody grin.

"How do you know all this?"

"Someone – probably Richardson - set their radio to broadcast-only mode."

"Nice." The guys nodded approvingly. The radios were encrypted, so it wasn't like the signal would get into the wrong hands.

"Yeah, it was real helpful." He paused before continuing, knowing the probable reaction his next words would get. "The plan was apparently to kill the doc right away, but their leader's little brother was hit during the fight, and he made her patch him up. Once he was stabilized, the debate started up again. I ended it." Tom raised an eyebrow at that. "I shot both of their sentries – in the stomach."

The others winced at that viciously calculated move. Not because they actually felt sorry for the sentries, mind you. But gut shots were some of the slowest, most painful ways to die – unless you had a doctor. "She's still working on the second one now."

"Also, the doc's pretty smart. I don't know if those guys actually needed transfusions, but she's insisting on tapping the healthy ones for blood. At least one of them was getting kinda woozy."

"Atta girl." Tom said, smiling. "So what's the plan?"

. . . . . .

Rachel looked down at her first patient. She actually felt a little sorry for the kid. He was probably sixteen, and his older brother was a piece of work, bullying his younger sibling even as he was bleeding profusely. _It must really suck to have this jerk be your only surviving relative. Especially if you're just a kid._ She adjusted the lines connecting the brothers once more; it had taken an unreasonable amount of time to convince the leader of this motley crew to donate blood to his own brother, but she'd done it, and now it looked like young Mark would be okay. His color had mostly returned, and normally she'd have removed the line by now…but a little more wouldn't hurt Mark, and a little less blood in his asshole of a brother would be useful when Tom came for her.

 _Any time now, Tom._

"Surely that's enough?" Frank asked. "I've donated blood before, it doesn't take this long."

"It's a little different when there's a human on the other end of the line, you know."

Frank huffed in impatience; she sat and waited another minute, debating exactly how far she could stretch this. Finally, she reached over Mark's face and gently patted his face, watching his pupils react to the light as he opened his eyes.

"Mark?"

"Mm"

"How are you feeling?"

"…better… less dizzy… still hurts..."

"Yeah, it's going to hurt for a while. I think we might be ready to take the line out of your arm, though."

"Okay." He said, lifting his arm slightly. She reached for the supplies and prepared the bandages for his arm; she'd just pulled the needle out of his arm when the door burst open. She threw herself down on top of Mark, folding his arm around the gauze, and waited for the gunfire to stop. She felt warm, sticky blood land across her and Mark as the line from Frank's arm swung wildly, and then the noise stopped.

After a few seconds silence, she cautiously raised her head. Aside from the Mark, all the other immunes were dead.

"You okay?" Tom asked, moving to her.

"Fine. We're both fine." Her rescuers looked at her strangely at that phrasing; she returned it with a look. Wolf and Tom were the first to get it – once they looked at the kid, barely old enough to shave. She finished putting the bandage on his arm, then stood to hug Tom. He was filthy, a mix of dirt and blood on his uniform, but then so was she. "Took you long enough."

"Hey, I got here as fast as I could." He held her close, tucking her head against his shoulder. "I thought I told you to be careful."

"I _was_. It's not my fault these guys pop up out of nowhere."

"Well then you're not going on any more field trips. Michener can find himself another doctor – or he can find himself another captain. I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

"Sounds good to me. Can we go home now?"

"Absolutely."

. . . . .

Rachel looked up after pulling on Tom's dirty, but warm, uniform jacket and stopped in her tracks on the tarmac.

"You didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Commandeer Air Force One."

Tom looked at the plane, really looked at it, for the first time. There it was, the seal of the office of the president.

"Apparently so."

"You seriously didn't notice? The pilots didn't tell you?"

"We were in kind of a hurry. I just told them Dr. Scott was in trouble and we needed the plane."

"Michener's going to be pissed."

"Let him." He kissed her temple. "You're worth it."

They moved up the stairs, trailed by her rescue party and Mark. Given that this was an executive jet, the seats were both comfortable and roomy, and it wasn't long before she was asleep on Tom's shoulder.

Mark was obviously affected by the death of his brother, and though it was clear he'd receive leniency for his part in today's events, he was worried about his own fate.

"It'll be okay, you know." Mark looked over at the Australian. "She's on your side. That counts for a lot."

"Is that really Dr. Scott?"

"Yeah."

"And Captain Chandler?"

"Mm-hm."

"I _told_ Frank this was a bad idea."

"Yeah, it was." Came the reply. "I'm glad to see you have some sense. Though I do have to ask why you were still with those guys."

"Frank is – was – the only family I had left. And I'm only fifteen, so…"

"Sorry, kid. We'll see what we can do for you when we get to St. Louis. I'm sure we can find a good situation for you. So relax and get some sleep. You could definitely use the rest after the day you've been through."

"What's your name?" Mark asked

"Wolf. These guys are Miller and Burk."

"Thanks, Wolf." Mark said, taking the advice and settling in for a nap.

. . . .

Tom stood in the lobby, filthy and tired, waiting for Rachel to get out of the lobby bathroom. He couldn't wait to get back to his apartment and crash. But then he saw a familiar secret service agent coming down the hall and braced himself. Sure enough, the president walked around the corner, and started in on a dressing-down. Tom was too tired to get angry; he simply stood at attention while half-listening. Something about haring off without orders, missing delegates, cancelled meetings and stealing his plane. The other half of his mind began to wonder if living in the same building as the president and other 'high-value' members of the government was really worth the extra security.

Suddenly Rachel was beside him, equally filthy, still wearing his uniform jacket – and royally pissed.

"Jeff _._ _Shut up_." She briefly glanced at Tom, who was mildly shocked. "He saved my life today by 'haring off' without telling you. I don't care about your delayed delegates." She watched as Michener turned to her and tried to open his mouth once more, but she cut him off. "Now: we are hungry, we are tired, we are filthy, and we will see you _tomorrow_." She took Tom's hand and pulled him to the elevator. He followed after a quick glance back at the sputtering president, offering only a shrug and a helpless expression before following this willful woman up to his apartment.

"Rachel, I…that was…"

"He deserved it! Don't give me that chain of command crap!"

"Wasn't going to... I just wanted to let you know that watching that was sexy as hell." Using their still-linked hands, he pulled her close, redirecting her passion into the far more enjoyable experience of kissing, pressing her against the door they had just closed. When they came up for air, their eyes met in mutual, powerful lust, but Tom sensed some small hesitation on her part. "Rachel?"

"We're _filthy_." Had it been mere dirt, she wouldn't have cared, but the doctor in her was appalled at the notion of doing anything further while covered in actual blood.

"Let's take this to the shower, then." Tom grinned at her. He was rewarded by a willing smile, and they left a trail of dirty clothes on the floor all the way to the bathroom.


	8. author's note

I know I've been sorta slacking lately; I'm in the middle of a ginormous school project. I do have some more story laid out, but I don't have time to write it right now. I plan to return to it after I finish the project in a month or so.

Thanks for following the plot bunnies with me.


	9. Chapter 8

Rachel awoke to Tom nuzzling her neck. Which tickled. She rolled over, giggling.

"Tom!"

"What? It's time to get up."

She glanced at the clock.

"Not yet it isn't!"

"Yes, well, I was hoping…"

"You were, were you?" she said, reaching for him with a grin on her face. His eyes lit, and he kissed her before pulling away.

"Tom?" she asked, confused until she realized he was opening his nightstand drawer.

"Just a sec – " Then suddenly, he turned back to her. "We didn't – last night – we never – "

"It's okay, Tom. I have an implant, I got it before I went to the artic."

The relief on his face was palpable.

"Thank god." He said, moving back towards her. However, she drew away.

"Would that really be so terrible?" she said coolly, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

"What?" he stopped, replaying their conversation in his head to figure out where he'd screwed up. He didn't work it out until she was on the other side of the closed bathroom door, and moved to follow her. "Rachel – no, it's not like that." He told the closed door. "I'm okay with it – I just would prefer to marry you first." He looked down at his feet. "I suppose I'm a bit old-fashioned like that."

The door opened slowly.

"You would marry me?"

"Well, yeah. Did you think this was just a fling? Do you really think I'm that kind of man?"

"No. I just…haven't thought that far ahead."

"That's fair. I haven't either. We haven't had much chance to." He cocked his head towards the bed, moving to sit down. "I didn't know you wanted kids."

"I…don't necessarily know that I do. I just…you looked so relieved. Like you wouldn't _want_ me to have your child." She said, sitting next to him.

"Rachel, no. Any kid of ours would be amazing. Your brains, my good looks." She laughed, smacking him lightly. "No, if I looked relieved, I was probably having a flashback to my third year in the academy." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Darien and I had a pregnancy scare. I had another year at the academy, she had two more years of college. It was the worst time to have a baby – one or both of us would have had to drop out."

"Ah. That's understandable."

"So…if you wanted to…we could. But, like I said, I am old-fashioned enough to want to marry you first. I'd also like the chance to introduce you to the kids before that."

"When do they get here?"

"Tomorrow, actually."

"Have you told them about us?"

"I've talked to them about you, but not about _us_. They do remember you from Baltimore. Sam thinks you have magical powers, Ashley said you were 'alright'."

"Just 'alright'?"

"Hey, from her, that's high praise."

"But is that enough to let me into their family?"

"They'll come around. If it helps, Dad likes you."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, he is the one who helped me pull my head out of my ass when it came to you."

"Oh, this I need to hear."

"It was after that big fight we had, about Niels. He asked me _why_ I was so angry with you. I couldn't answer him right away, but I eventually realized it had nothing to do with Niels and everything to do with you. How I could have lost you – and how much it would have hurt. And how once I figured it out, it was too late to do anything about it, thanks to the situation and the responsibilities of my position." He took her hand in his. "When you asked what I really wanted, I nearly died inside."

"Tom – " she said softly "I'm so sorry."

"I'm just glad you're here now. And Michener, as annoying as he can be sometimes, will forever have my gratitude for pardoning you."

"I suppose we do owe him that much." She admitted, relaxing and leaning against him for a long moment.

"We should send him a fruit basket." He said suddenly. She lifted her head to raise an eyebrow at him, but otherwise kept a straight face. "Okay, okay, I'll throw in a gift certificate too."

"You will, hmm? Where to?" she replied evenly.

"Macy's. I want my clothes back."

She cracked, giving in to the laughter.

"You are something else, you know that?" she said.

"Hush, you like it." He said, pulling her back against him and kissing the top of her head.

"You really think that Ashley and Sam will be okay with it?" she asked hesitantly.

"We'll work it out." He said. "They're children, which are surprisingly resilient."

"Speaking of kids, what are we doing with Mark?"

"Well, once he's all patched up, I was thinking we'd put him with the kids from the camp. We found some dorms for them, and we're finding them jobs. A few are serious about signing up for the Navy, but there's a few working for the various government entities already – gophers and whatnot."

"Uh, gophers? I though that was an animal."

"Slang term – they run errands, mostly fetching things. 'Go for this, go for that'. Go-fers."

"You yanks always did have a talent for mangling the queen's English."

"We're efficient is all. There's no need to insert random 'u's into words."

She opened her mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but was interrupted by the alarm. She sighed in irritation as she reached over to shut it off.

"You'd better have a proper cup of tea in this flat."

"Of course. What do you think I am, uncivilized? It's in the kitchen, next to the coffee. Come on, I'll show you."


	10. Chapter 9

"Good morning." President Michener said, gesturing towards his office couch. "I see you're both feeling better."

"Much better, sir." The captain replied politely as they all sat. The pointed glare he got from Dr. Scott was more honest - and a little disconcerting.

"So why don't you give me a quick rundown of your adventures yesterday?"

The pair exchanged a glance, eyes meeting in a decision to let Tom speak.

"I was on the sat phone with Dr. Scott when it became clear something had happened – I heard loud noises, and she suddenly told me she had to go – but said things that didn't make sense." Seeing the question on his face, he elaborated. "She purposely mis-stated her return date, and the ages of my children. Things that wouldn't sound wrong to a stranger, but they told me that something was very wrong."

"Then I went to Kara's desk, met up with Lt. Green, and from there we mobilized a rescue mission. We grabbed the plane that was already prepped for takeoff, and…from there it was a pretty standard rescue op, sir. Met up with Wolf, took out the hostiles, re-took the clinic. Then we came home. I strongly recommend that she not be sent out on similar missions to unsecured territory."

"Then who should I send?"

"Milowski."

"Already sent to Georgia."

"She can train other people to spread the cure. They can go."

"Somehow I doubt this is an afternoon seminar type subject." Michener said dryly, looking to the Doctor.

"Not an afternoon. But if you can get me people who are already medically trained, a few days ought to suffice."

"That could work. We do have a few colleges in town we could use for that purpose."

"Do any of them have medical research labs?" Dr. Scott said, perking up at the thought of a proper lab to work in.

"We can check." He said, mildly amused at the instant change in her demeanor. "In the meantime, I'll arrange for a larger security escort for you, as well as a place to stay. I think there's few more empty units in our building. Why don't you go talk to my secretary and tell him what you're looking for, both in a research facility and in an apartment."

"Thank you." She said, standing up to exit. Tom stood with her.

"Captain, a moment?"

"Go on, I'll catch up." He said quietly.

Both men eyed each other until the door shut and her footsteps receded down the hall.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Michener asked.

"Sir?" He had a guess about what this was about, but he wanted to make the president say it.

"Are you going to go rushing off every time she's in trouble?"

"Are you suggesting that I fail to protect the single most important civilian we have?"

"…I'm a civilian."

"That's true, sir. But with all due respect, sir, you have an entire chain of command – people both willing _and able_ to take your place. Can you name someone else who can replace Dr. Scott?"

"Dr. Milowski."

He nodded, acknowledging the nomination.

"That's one. Can you name another?" he watched Michener think for a good thirty seconds before conceding defeat.

"Okay, fine, you have a point. But did it occur to you that if you'd told anyone outside of the Nathan James where you were going, we might have been able to handle it differently?"

"What, without stealing your plane?" he said, throwing the president's words back at him in the politest tone he could manage.

"I was thinking more about the fact that there was an ops team en route to St. louis from Cheyenne, which we could have diverted to get there sooner than you could. Or sent a helo from Offutt. A single phone call to someone other than a docked ship…we had to guess at what you were doing based on Lt. Foster's vague understanding of the situation…half an hour after you had left."

Michener watched as his words sunk in, then continued in a softer tone.

"I realize that, for a long time, there literally hasn't been anyone else _to_ call, and that one of your primary responsibilities is the safety of your crew. But now, there are other responsibilities – and other people to help meet them."

"Point made, sir." Came the respectful (and somewhat chagrined) reply.

"Now, is there anything else I should know?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you've guessed how I feel about her."

"And there's nothing against that sort of thing. Just…try to realize your bias. Preferably _before_ making hasty decisions."

"Yes, sir."

"Now go on, I have other things to do." Michener said, moving back to his desk.

"Yes, sir." Tom replied, rising to leave, but was stopped by an overly-offhanded remark.

"Oh, your floor is still pretty empty, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." He said, smiling at the implied endorsement. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem. Now shoo."

"Ah, yes sir!" he said, exiting the office.

He found Rachel talking to a young man at a desk with far too much paper on it, describing things she wanted for her lab in terms that clearly bewildered the kid, who sat there trying to take notes verbatim and struggling to keep up with her gushing enthusiasm.

"Uh, Rachel?"

"Hey, Tom. Everything okay?"

"Maybe try layman's terms?" he suggested, pointing at the confused secretary and his hastily scrawled notes.

"Oh." She thought about it for a moment, trying to paraphrase and failing. "Some of these are specific technical requirements." She paused once more. "How about I write them down for you, and you can go look them up?"

She found a pen and pad of paper shoved into her hands almost instantly by the relieved secretary.

"Have you picked out an apartment yet? My floor is 2/1s, there's several that are unoccupied. You could use the second bedroom as an office."

"A 2/1 what?"

"Two beds, one bath."

"No kitchen?"

"Kitchen and living room are included." He said, amused.

"Wait, your floor is all two bedroom units? Your flat is bigger than that."

"They connected two units for me. Part of the reason there's so many empty units on my floor was the construction noise. You didn't notice the second kitchen sink?"

"I _did_ think it was a little odd to have a sink in your office." She said distractedly as she scribbled down another item on her list.

"You'll also need an adjacent unit for your security team." He continued, thinking out loud as he glanced at the nameplate on the secretary's desk. "And while I'm here, Steven, can you make sure Mark gets set up with a dorm room and a job when he gets better?"

"Mark? Mark who?"

"You know, I didn't actually get his last name. He came back from Nebraska with us. He's still recovering in the hospital, but he'll be out in a couple of days."

"The immune kid?" he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"He's a good kid." Rachel said. "He just didn't have a lot of options out there, so he stuck with his older brother. He's the same age as the campers, he ought to fit right in."

"If you say so." He said, writing down the information.

"Here." She said, handing Steven a list. "This should be enough to start with."

"Start with?" he said dubiously, lifting the paper to the second page, and then the third. "Okay…I'll start making some phone calls."

"Thank you."

"And the apartment will be simple enough, it should be ready by the end of the day."

"Brilliant. Thanks again." She said, leaving the office with a huge grin on her face as she contemplated her new lab. Tom followed her out, allowing himself a small smile at her obvious delight.


	11. Chapter 10

They sat in one of the apartment building's clubhouse rooms, having just finished a private family lunch. Tom was glad the apartment had one; it allowed privacy and security and a little space to run around. His one attempt to go out to eat recently had resulted in an hour of talking to strangers who wanted to meet the famous captain. While he didn't hold that against people, that was not how he wanted to spend his first day with his family in months. Nor was that something he was willing to risk with Rachel, given recent events. Having Burk and Green guarding the door while his kids could burn off a little steam was just about ideal. He suddenly ducked as the foam football headed his way.

"Sam!"

He looked at his son, who had a mischievous look on his face.

"Oops."

"Oops, huh?" He got out of his chair, picked up the ball and exchanged a conspiratorial look with Sam's sister, who grinned and held out her hands. He tossed it to her, and the game of keep-away was underway – though it quickly evolved into keeping it away from Tom, his children using the vaulted ceiling to their advantage. After a few minutes, he glanced over to find his father and Rachel in the corner – Rachel giggling hysterically as she looked down at his father's wallet.

" _Dad!"_

"What?"

"Must you?"

"Allow an old man his enjoyments. You'll get to do it one day to your own kids, you know."

"Are you showing her the picture of dad wearing a diaper on his head?" Ashley asked, causing Rachel to explode in a fresh fit of giggles.

"Haven't gotten to that one yet." Jed replied evenly.

Tom looked at his father, debating his options. It would be improper to steal an old man's wallet out of his hands. So that left simply separating her from the wallet. He walked over to the table, pulled her out of her chair, and carried her across the room, still giggling.

"You stay away from him, you hear me? He's a corrupting influence." He said, depositing her in a chair.

"Is that so? And you left your children in his custody?"

Just then, Tom was hit in the head by the ball, thrown by one of his aforesaid corrupted children.

"And it shows." He scolded playfully, moving towards Sam with waggling fingers. His son went down, shrieking with laughter as he was tickled, dragging Tom to the floor. After a while, Tom relented and while Sam quieted down, laughter continued. He looked up to find Rachel right where he'd left her – holding his father's wallet, while Ashley narrated between giggles of her own.

"What the – "

"What? I stayed away from him." Ashley looked up at him, her complicity plainly evident on her face.

 _Okay, this has gone on long enough._ He released Sam, moving towards Rachel – who saw him coming and handed it to Ashley, who tossed it to Sam, who passed it back to Rachel.

"Traitors, the lot of you!" he said, assessing tactics in this suddenly very serious battle of keep away. _Rachel is the key – she's the one they're trying to show the pictures to._ Within two minutes – and only revealing two more pictures, helpfully explained by his unrepentant family between guffaws – he finally had Rachel cornered. She made a break to escape, but he caught her and they ended up in a heap on the floor, Rachel on top of him, knocking the wind out of him, still laughing her ass off. He impulsively decided to shut her up with a kiss, which worked – she didn't let go of the wallet or move to get up, but she did stop laughing.

"You know, you were a really cute kid."

"Thanks, I guess." He said, suddenly remembering where he was. He looked at the kids, who he realized they hadn't actually told yet, though he was pretty sure Ashley had come to suspect it over the course of the last few hours. Sam looked at his sister, who shrugged.

"You'll be nice to him, right, Dr. Rachel?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes I will." She replied seriously.

"You promise?" Sam persisted

Rachel sat up, looking Sam right in the eye.

"I promise." He considered her words, and made a noncommittal noise. She replied with a gentle smile. "Sam, how about you come tell me about..." She suddenly flipped to the next picture in Jed's wallet "...this one." she said, holding it just out of Tom's reach. Tom sighed, surrendering as his kids sat next to them on the floor and explained each embarrassing photo in turn.

Across the room, Jed sat and smiled contentedly. His family was going to be just fine.


	12. Chapter 11

Rachel rode the elevator to her floor, simultaneously tired yet restless. The day had been frustrating, and she felt like she'd spent all day working hard yet accomplishing nothing. They hadn't been able to find a lab with everything she needed, so they had taken the largest lab they could find and were attempting to gather the equipment to install in it. The day had been spent examining what lab equipment should stay, what needed to be removed or replaced, and waiting for movers, which had eventually showed up in the form of a dozen marines. They had been efficient at removing the equipment, but the place was a mess and looked worse than it had before. Tomorrow looked to be a day of cleaning and scrubbing, and she was not looking forward to it.

 _But today wasn't all bad,_ she thought with a smile. The lab she'd been given was on the same campus as the dorms where the kids from the Nathan James had been assigned, and she'd been able to stop by and visit with Mark. He seemed a little nervous, and unsure about inserting himself into the tightly-knit group of teenagers with which he'd been placed. But it seemed that having her make the introductions had greased the wheels. Wolf's jokes had also conveyed his stamp of approval, and by the time they left, the group was gathered around Mark, checking out his scars. _I wonder how long before he gets a girl to kiss it better?_ She thought, smirking slightly.

Ding!

The elevator announced her arrival and she stepped off, nodding at the guard standing by it. She paused for a moment, debating which direction to go. Her apartment was to the right, but it seemed so empty and unattractive at the moment. All that waited for her there was a duffel bag of clothes and her computer. All that she could really do there was sleep, and she wasn't ready for that. She turned left instead, offering only a brief wave to the marine by her door.

She heard Sam before she got to the door, knocking with a smile on her face. The door opened to a chaotic scene of boxes and Sam's legs sticking out of a particularly large one.

"Hello, Rachel. Welcome to Pandemonia."

"Hi, Jed. Is Tom in?"

"Not quite yet. You can wait for him if you like, or, if you prefer quiet, I can send him your way when he arrives."

"I was actually thinking my apartment was too quiet just now."

"Well, in that case… welcome! Would you like something to drink?"

"Hey Dr. Rachel!" Sam came at her with a bucket of legos. "Wanna play?"

"Sam, no. We have to unpack everything, _then_ you can play with it, remember?" Jed said, exasperated.

"Maybe later, Sam." Rachel said, giving him a gentle smile.

"Sorry. He's been bouncing off the walls all day."

"Not a problem. It's exciting, I'm sure." She watched as he ran off to his room with his treasure. "Where's Ashley?"

"She's the opposite of Sam. Been super quiet ever since she started unpacking." He sighed. "She opened a box of her mother's things by mistake."

"That would put a damper on things. How is she doing, Jed?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to say to her." He paused. "And lord knows living with a bunch of guys doesn't help." He tilted his head as an idea struck him. "Rachel, forgive me, but Tom told me about your mother. Would you be comfortable talking to Ashley?"

"I'm not sure that I'm really qualified to help her as much as you think." She replied hesitantly.

"I was just thinking if, maybe she had someone to talk to, someone who understood what it was like - " he broke off suddenly. "I'm sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut."

"Jed, it's okay. I get it. You're not wrong. It's just that I didn't have anyone to talk to about it for years, and I'm not sure I dealt with it all that well myself. But I'd be glad to try and talk to her."

"Thank you."

"Which room is hers?"

. . . . .

Tom walked to Ashley's room to find Rachel and Ashley among the half-unpacked boxes, looking at a photo album. He noticed the tissues on the bed, and that Ashley was wearing his wife's sweater. Instead of interrupting, he stood in the doorway and watched for a moment.

"And that's when Sam came home from the hospital. He was noisy."

"Babies tend to be."

"Smelly, too." She said as she wrinkled her nose. Tom chuckled, causing her to look up. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Ash. Grandpa wanted to see you. He found something and he's not sure if it's yours or Sam's." He told her, tilting his head towards the living room. Then he walked over to look at the album himself. A wrinkled, red-faced bundle looked up from the page as Rachel traced its cheek. "Sam _was_ a noisy baby – he had colic. We spent many sleepless nights with him."

"Poor thing."

"Eh, he came out all right." He said. "How is Ashley doing?"

"She misses her mother, and moving has dredged up a lot of memories. But I suspect you knew that."

"I do. I just don't know how…hell, I miss her too."

"Maybe tell _her_ that from time to time. Let her know she's not alone."

"I will." He agreed, sitting next to her.

He looked on as she flipped to the next page and traced the images with her fingers. "You want one, don't you?"

"What?"

"A baby."

She looked at him, surprised, but then her expression softened.

"I did, once. But I gave up on it after a while."

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really, it just didn't seem to be in the cards after a while. And then I stopped thinking about it. It no longer seemed realistically possible."

"Well, that's a first."

"What?"

"You saying something isn't possible."

"Yes, well – I'm not that young anymore."

"You're not that old, either."

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"What exactly are you proposing?"

"Funny you should use that term." He said, reaching into his pocket. He'd planned to ask her over a nice dinner, but that comment was too perfect to pass up. "I just got this from Dad. I was hoping you'd take it." He held out a ring. It was simple, but he knew a large, fancy ring wasn't important to Rachel. Might even annoy her if it impeded her ability to work in the lab. "It was my mother's."

"Tom…" she looked at him, speechless, not moving toward him, but not moving away either. The moment dragged out until he cleared his throat.

"Uh, Rachel?"

She shook herself.

"Sorry. It's just a little surreal to me."

"Surreal?" he echoed.

"Sitting here, discussing children…the ring. Very…domestic. I feel like I'm missing an apron."

He snorted, trying not to laugh at the image that conjured up.

"You are _not_ a housewife. I know better than that."

"Good." She said, letting out a giggle, giving Tom permission to laugh. Once the laughter tapered off, he looked down at his hand once more.

"So…is that a yes?"

"Yes, you big goof. It's a yes." She said, putting the ring on her finger and taking a few seconds to look at the sight before kissing him. He returned it enthusiastically, hands exploring, before she suddenly broke it off. "Tom, wait."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just was thinking we might want to change venues."

He looked around, noticing his daughter's bedspread.

"Yeah, you're right. I don't think I could ever look Mr. Fluffkins in the eyes again."

"Me either."


	13. Chapter 12

_When does this woman rest?_ Dr. Scott's newest bodyguard was tired. Dave Weichert been hauled off his flight and assigned this detail with no notice. He was a little surprised that they didn't interview him first – you would think that guarding the savior of the world would warrant a background check of some kind – but then he spotted Danny Green in the courthouse, talking to the new CNO. _I_ _ **really**_ _must thank him for this later. Personally. Preferably at the end of a double shift._ He looked over at the doctor once more. Even here in the Humvee, she was working. He'd been with her for five hours now and he had yet to see her take a break – she even worked while eating. He didn't really understand _what_ she was doing – there was too much medical terminology being thrown around – but she seemed to run at one speed: full steam ahead.

They arrived at the court house fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but that still didn't slow her down.

"Ma'am, we're early." He said. "We can wait in the lobby."

"I thought I'd visit Tom's office, actually."

Dave looked at Burk, who didn't seem bothered by the prospect, so they followed her through the halls, as she seemed to know where they were going quite well. They entered an office containing a pregnant navy lieutenant who greeted them with a smile.

"Hello, Kara. Is he in?"

"For you, ma'am, always." She said, nodding towards the door behind her.

"Thank you."

She headed into the indicated door, and Dave moved to follow her – only to be intercepted by the lieutenant as he passed her desk.

"Excuse me." He said politely, watching the door close between him and his assignment. "I need to go with the Doctor." The lieutenant raised an eyebrow at him, unyielding, and there was a titter behind him from Burk. _"What?_ " he snapped. He was too tired for this shit.

"You seriously don't know?" Burk asked.

"Know what?"

"You don't wanna go in there, man."

"I'm supposed to follow her everywhere. Keep her safe."

"I promise you, she's safe with him. The captain would never let anything happen to her."

Dave made an exasperated noise. Okay, this 'Captain Tom' was probably Thomas Chandler. Still.

"I mean, I guess _you_ know that, he's your captain…incidentally, when are you going to put up some signs?" he asked, looking around the office for anything that would confirm whose office he suspected this was.

Both of them laughed, looking at each other with great amusement.

"Danny said you were pretty dense in certain respects." She said. He looked at her, confused. What was going on here? Why were they both laughing at him? And why would Danny have discussed him with this lieutenant? Finally, she stopped laughing and took pity on him. "She'll be fine, I promise. There's nobody you can trust with her safety more that Captain Chandler."

"I - It's just that I was told not to leave her side for anything."

"Who do you think put that ring on her finger?"

He pointed at the door questioningly, as he processed that information. She nodded, and Burk confirmed it.

"Your presence would be most unwelcome."

"Ah."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but, uh, what rock have you been living under?" Burk asked. "You haven't heard the wild tales of Captain Chandler and Doctor Scott?"

"Clearly I haven't heard the same ones you have." Dave replied dryly.

"Don't mind him, Burk. Danny says he's not much for 'human interest' type stories."

"And what _else_ does he say about me? He seems to have told you a lot about me, while he hasn't told me a thing about you."

"Sorry." She said, holding out her hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Kara Green."

"Kara…Green?" he said, looking at her nametag. Which said Foster, not Green.

"Haven't had time to change that yet." She said, brushing it with her hand. He noticed the ring as that hand returned to her belly.

"Wow. Seems a lot has changed since I talked to him last."

"Quite a bit. Would you like me to give you a rundown now, or wait until Danny can join us for dinner?"


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: I decided that Bivas was too awesome to let die.

Dave looked on at the scene in front of him. Since he'd been fully briefed by Danny and his new bride, he'd come to enjoy this new posting. The woman he was assigned to was a walking contradiction; in some respects, she was fearless. She ruled her lab with complete authority, of course. But she was also perfectly comfortable in the presidential courthouse. Her status and lack of official rank explained a lot about that, but she was neither above chatting with the staff or below occasionally rolling her eyes at Michener's rather impressive scientific ignorance.

However, in the face of an adoring crowd or even a solo 'fan', she became withdrawn. She didn't seem to mind a sincere 'thank you' from someone who'd survived due to her cure, genuinely warming up to any children who might want to chat with her. But the second she was asked for a selfie or a signature, she clammed up. And there was a small but growing paparazzi-style presence, who harassed her daily, preventing her from enjoying walks in the park or picking up the Chandler children from school. It had gotten noticeably worse as people heard about engagement, the questions shouted at her becoming very personal and intrusive.

That presence was also why they were here in the gym now. Last weekend, during an impromptu trip for some tea, some reporter had jumped out in front of her with a camera. Dave had grabbed the idiot before he got more than four feet from her, but Rachel's instinctive reaction had been to reach out and hit the camera. She'd successfully knocked the (very expensive and likely currently irreplaceable) camera onto the ground, breaking it. But she'd also been rattled by the experience, and the incident had demonstrated her lack of basic self defense skills. After some discussion, they'd decided on a few basic training sessions.

Chandler first tried teaching her himself, but it quickly became clear that that was problematic; Burk quickly noticed that they were having trouble hitting each other, and suggested bringing in Bivas instead. She was closer to Rachel's size and weight – and had no qualms about hitting anyone. Tom had been relieved at the suggestion; right now he'd stopped by to check in on her progress, and was grinning as Ravit and Rachel traded barbs in between blows.

"Well, to be _truly_ even, we'd pair you with Kara." Bivas smirked, easily ducking a swing. Rachel couldn't help but laugh; Kara had given birth less than two weeks ago. Both mother and child were fine, but Kara could hardly be said to be at the top of her form.

"Or I could drug your food." Rachel replied gamely, regaining her balance. She heard a low chuckle from the doorway. "Or yours, Tom."

"Good to know." He said dryly. "…How about we get takeout tonight?" He suggested, noticing the suppressed smirks of everyone in the room.

"I know this Cajun place downtown." Burk offered.

"Sounds good." Rachel grunted as a hit landed. "Just not too spicy, okay?"

"Alright, I'll go talk to the kids. See you upstairs. And Bivas – " Rachel took that distraction as an opportunity to land a decent hit, but Ravit merely ignored it. "Try not to enjoy this _too_ much."

"Yes, Sir." She replied, but it was undercut by the grin on her face. Tom sighed and left. "Your fiancé can be _such_ a killjoy, you know that?" she said, moving in on her trainee once more.


	15. Chapter 14

Rachel looked up at the clock. _How time flies._ And it had flown. The last couple of months had been a whirlwind; teaching was harder than she had remembered from her time as a TA in college, though it was also rewarding. Most of the eastern seaboard was clear of the virus; low population densities in the Midwest made it harder for the contagious cure to spread in that direction, but they were working on it. A big part of their western efforts required the military going to population centers on the west coast and working the cure inland. Unfortunately for Rachel, this had required the deployment of the USS Nathan James.

She had quickly come to miss the presence of Danny, Wolf, Burke, Bivas and Miller on her protection detail, but at least they had been sent off in style. She smiled in memory. That going away party had also been their wedding. It hadn't been the original plan, but how else were all their friends going to be able to attend? She also knew that it had lessened the sting for Tom, who had to send his ship off while he stayed behind. Every so often, she'd catch him looking at the naval paintings in his office and sighing that he was stuck on dry land. But it never lasted long, because he had found there were certain perks to staying home, herself primary among them. She blushed darkly, glad nobody else was present. She wasn't sure how much of his enthusiasm was for the prospect of a baby and how much was simply enjoyment of the process, but Tom had taken every opportunity he could find to get her alone. At least twice they had come dangerously close to being caught by the children, and it was with noticeable relief that Jed had moved to Rachel's old apartment.

A knock on the door broke her train of thought.

"Special delivery."

Rachel smiled. It was Mark. Since his new job was gopher at the courthouse, and his dorm was on the same campus as her lab, it was common for Tom to send her a message via courier. Sure, he could have just called her, but she had to admit there was a drawer in her desk that held nothing but his notes.

"Hey Mark, come on in."

He came in carrying a small bag, causing her to sigh slightly. It was from a bakery she'd grown quite fond of, but that usually meant that he'd be working late that night.

"Another long night?" she asked unnecessarily, reaching for the package.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm going back after dinner myself." He said as she read the note.

 _Sorry, Rachel. Talking with the Chinese and they aren't too keen on splitting the time difference._

"Well, tell him thanks for me. Wait, are these cranberries?"

"Yes, he said they were your favorite."

"They are. I didn't realize they were in season yet."

"Well, enjoy." Mark said.

"Thank you, Mark. Don't let them work you too hard, okay?"

"I'll tell them you said so." He said, smiling as he left.


	16. Chapter 15

Kara opened the new package of ration stamps and nodded in approval. Rumor had it these had an actual design on them; all previous ones had been simple text. Flipping through the book, she found Dr. Scott staring back at her in different colors for each type of stamp.

"Nice choice." She said to herself.

"What's that, Lieutenant?"

"The new ration stamps." She said, holding them up so he could see them. "They picked a nice picture of her."

" _What?"_ he strode over and grabbed them out of her hand. "Oh man, she's going to be pissed."

"…They didn't ask?"

"Pretty sure she would have mentioned it. And shot it down immediately." He scratched his head as he contemplated her reaction to this. "They certainly didn't run it by me, either." He stated unnecessarily, as it occurred to him that she might think he had known about it.

"At least it's a flattering picture?" Kara said hopefully. "It's not like they gave her a wonky nose."

"I actually think she'd prefer an inaccurate picture. She gets recognized on the street too much already. She's polite enough not to tell people to leave her alone, but I know it bothers her."

"Hmm. Yes, I can see that." Kara agreed. The doctor had always been about the work, not the credit. She always seemed uncomfortable at the praise heaped upon her by Michener at every public opportunity.

Just then, as if summoned, Rachel walked in with her escort.

"I didn't know." The CNO stated immediately, attempting to pre-empt any accusations.

"Know what?" she said, suddenly concerned.

Kara stepped in, trying to save her CO from himself; his defensive tone was not helping. She took the stamps from his hand and offered an explanation.

"The new ration stamps came in today, ma'am. There was a rumor that the new ones had an actual design on them, but nobody knew for sure what they looked like. Some people said it was the Nathan James, some said it was a new map, others said Michener…but…" she handed the stamps to Rachel.

"Wha- ?" She stared at the stamps, eyes narrowing ominously. After several seconds, it occurred to Kara that she'd never actually seen Dr. Scott speechless before; she had been never shy about making her opinion known. But eventually she turned to Tom and spoke in a tightly controlled voice.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

"Who did?"

"I'm not sure."

"Did they run it by Michener?"

"I don't know." He said. "Probably."

Rachel turned on her heel, stamps in hand, and strode out of the office with a determined look on her face. Kara and Tom exchanged a quick glance before he went after her, knowing the eruption was coming. He just had to make sure nobody got hurt.

. . . . .

He ran across a fleeing secretary on his way there; he found Rachel pinning Michener in the corner of his own office with a pointed finger and an even more pointed rant. Michener heard him enter and shot him a desperate glance. Tom slowly shook his head; short of physical violence, Jeff was on his own. He wasn't stupid enough to piss off his wife even further than she already was. He was only here to keep things from coming to blows, since she now knew how to do it right.

Having made his choice, he stood back and waited for her to run out of steam. It was actually rather impressive; he was learning all sorts of new vocabulary. And he was very glad that it was not directed at him. He knew that one day it might be – he was not immune to fucking up – but he hoped he never was. They'd had their own shouting matches, but they'd been primarily about the mission, not something as stupid as this. Michener should have known better, but he had always been eager to exploit the PR angle. Both of them had resented it, but Tom understood it was part of the job; Rachel had never accepted it.

Finally, Rachel wound down, face flushed and breathing heavily. Tom moved up next to her and put his arm around her; she leaned against him, physically spent but still shooting daggers at the president with her eyes. Michener looked at him, betrayed.

"You should have asked." Tom replied to the unasked ' _how could you'?_ on Jeff's face. "Hell, you could have come down the hall and asked me. I could have told you how she felt. Though if you had paid attention, you'd already know she doesn't like the spotlight."

"…Noted." Jeff said, slowly recovering his ability to speak. "I'll… keep that in mind …in the future."

Tom refrained from replying as he took Rachel out of the office, but then, he didn't really need to.

. . . .

They made their way back to Tom's office, his glare sending all the curious ears scurrying back into their respective offices like prairie dogs retreating into their burrows. Rachel collapsed on the couch in his office with a sob and he took her into his lap and held her, silently cursing Michener and anyone else who thought those stamps had been a good idea.

"I'll never be able to go outside again." She lamented.

"Yes you will." He reassured her.

"No I won't. Not without a bloody platoon around me."

"I'll get you a wig and some glasses. And we'll go to Alaska. Nobody else for miles."

His attempt at humor was unappreciated, earning him a slap on the shoulder. He sighed and let her cry.

. . . .

On the other side of the door, Kara politely ignored the noises from her bosses' office as her mind processed what the hell just happened. The Doc's temper was well known, but she had never seen her cry before. The pair happening back to back was …wait a minute. _Could she be…? That would explain the mood swing._ She shook her head and dove back into her work. It wasn't her business if she was or wasn't. And if she was, they'd figure it out soon enough.


	17. Chapter 16

Tom would have sighed in exasperation, but he was standing in front of about a dozen cameras. Of course, the people controlling those cameras were the reason for his exasperation. _No wonder Rachel always finds a reason to avoid these things._ Of course, she wasn't actually a government official, just an employee. As CNO, he couldn't really weasel out of these things. _Just like you can't weasel out of this new diplomat gig._ He wished he could go back to the semi-private life of an ordinary officer, or even a normal staff officer, but those days were gone. And he couldn't tell Michener to fuck off like Rachel had…dammit.

"And, if you have further questions about the upcoming diplomatic mission to Asia, Captain Chandler will be glad to answer them."

Tom smiled like he really was happy to take their questions and stepped up to the podium, acknowledging a reporter in the first row.

"Captain Chandler, why are we going to Asia to help them when the US isn't clear of the virus ourselves?"

"We're actually very close to completing our efforts here at home - we estimate another month or two. It's primarily an issue of simply getting the known cure to the people in less densely populated areas. For instance, getting the cure to spread through the mountains via the contagious vector is difficult, but that's why we sent the Nathan James to the west coast last month. Now the cure is working its way in from the west, and we expect the cure to reach both sides of the Rockies by the end of the month." He could see the reporter getting antsy at his long winded reply, and got to the point he'd been setting up.

"Since we're almost done here, it's time to start looking forward to rebuilding. Part of that effort is reaching out to the world and rebuilding diplomatic and economic ties with the rest of the world."

"So you'll be trading the cure for resources to rebuild?"

"No. We're sharing the cure because it's the right thing to do. The fact that it's beneficial to have live trading partners is just an added bonus." He did allow a little annoyance at the question to seep through. He hated the idea that anyone would consider profiting off of this life-saving medicine for any reason. Not to mention the fact that his own wife would kill him if he allowed it to happen. However, the reporter seemed oblivious to his irritation. And dense to boot.

"But It was an American ship that created the cure - some people think we should focus our recovery efforts here at home."

"With the aid of British doctors, a Jamaican survivor, and Nicaraguan monkeys. The cure does not belong to one country. It would be unethical to withhold it on any grounds. And the sooner the world is healthy, the sooner we can all help each other rebuild. Personally, I'm looking forward to the day we have coffee again."

A chuckle ran around the room in commiseration. If there was any coffee left in America, it was fetching top dollar on the black market. Another reporter piped up hopefully.

"Do Dr. Scott's models say how much longer it will take the cure to reach South America?"

Tom chuckled.

"I'll ask her. I do believe that South America is one of the first continents other than ours projected to be clear of the virus." He paused. "Any other questions?"

"Is she accompanying you on this mission?"

 _Not on your life._ In the many phone calls and few video chats they'd arranged with the Chinese leader, Peng had come across as a well-dressed snake. Polite, cultured, and viciously dangerous. Rachel hadn't been keen on traveling halfway around the world anyway, but he'd been insistent she stayed home.

"Unfortunately, she's busy working in the lab."

"What's she working on?"

"The aforementioned models and projections. We're trying to accelerate the spread of the cure as quickly as we can."

"What do those models say?

"Current projections show the cure already spreading south through the Americas, thanks to simple geography, but we're also sending the Solace on an Atlantic tour to Brazil, Africa, and Europe."

"Why is Europe last?" another reporter asked.

Tom looked at him. Historically, the US had had its strongest ties with Europe, but the situation had changed since the Red Flu. It was taking the general public time to come to terms with the fact that traditional western alliances were nearly non-existent, a dramatic change from the last century.

"The unfortunate truth is that there are simply fewer people to save in Europe." He replied, leaving unsaid the reason why. "Our goal is to save as many lives as possible, as soon as possible, and that means focusing on the largest populations." He saw the reporter's reluctance to accept that answer and continued. "I promise you, it was difficult for Dr. Scott to recommend that route."

The reporter nodded at that response, the reminder of Rachel's heritage making it easier to accept the logic behind the decision.

"Any chance she'll be able to come explain those models to us?"

Tom recognized the reporter asking the question as one from the only scientific journal that had been resurrected – the Journal of Infectious Diseases. Some of Rachel's work on the Red Flu had already been published with Dr. Milowski's help.

"It's nigh-impossible to pry her out of the lab in the middle of a project. Believe me, I've tried." A chuckle ran around the room. If her own husband couldn't get her out of the lab, nobody could. "Perhaps once the mission is over she'll publish the rest of her work."

"We'll be waiting with bated breath." The science reporter replied.

"Will we see her at all?"

Tom's eyes narrowed as recognized the next reporter. He belonged to the same paper that had ambushed Rachel a couple of months ago. Officially, it billed itself as a general newspaper with a 'human interest' focus, but it was little better than a gossip rag.

"The work she's doing is more important than talking to reporters." _Especially to come talk to vultures like you._

"But she's _the Doctor_." The reporter whined. Coverage of her had always been their best-selling issues.

Tom's patience ran out at the entitlement in that comment.

"Okay, let's make this perfectly clear. She has not, is not, and will not be a government spokesperson. _She is a private citizen._ If you go around harassing private citizens, your credentials may come into question."

"Is _that_ why Fred's press pass was revoked? Because he tried to interview your wife?"

Tom could no longer contain his anger, replying in an icy tone.

"No. Mr. Exeter's press pass was not revoked after he accosted my wife on the street. It was revoked after he did the same thing to my father as he dropped my children off at school."

The reporter actually flinched, and looked to his peers for support. He didn't find it. Attempting to talk to the Doctor was one thing; involving the children remained out of bounds, one of the few standards of the old press corps that was still considered sacred in today's world.

"Are there any other questions?" Chandler asked. For once, the answer was no. "In that case, good day."


	18. Chapter 17

"My doctors assure me they are doing the best they can." Peng replied to Captain Chandler's pointed words. "I do wish your wife could have made the trip. Perhaps our doctors could learn how to do it better from her."

Internally, he winced, reminded of why he'd insisted Rachel stayed home. Diplomacy was not her strong suit – instead of poking the elephant as he had, she would have skewered it and then roasted the carcass. Peng struck him as the sort of fellow who had a very thin veneer of diplomacy over an actual practice of direct action, and he feared what his reaction to that would have been.

"Unfortunately, she is quite busy in the lab. Maybe some other time."

"So is it still Dr. Scott, or Dr. Chandler? Or is she doing that thing where you put them together? You Americans confuse me sometimes."

"Well, for one, she's British. And since she's a published researcher who's not done publishing, she thought she'd keep her name the same."

"Logical." Peng conceded, raising his glass. "May you have many happy years together."

"Thank you." Replied the captain before they both returned to their meals.

"So how _was_ the wedding, Captain Scott?" Sasha smirked.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, opening up a folder of the pictures that every woman of his acquaintance had demanded to see since he'd gotten married. It would be faster this way.

"Here." He said as he began scrolling through the pictures. "Ashley was the flower girl… Sam was the ring bearer… here's the dress…and the vows…"

Sasha sipped her wine as she watched, but noticed something out of place. She whispered to Tom under cover of her wine glass.

"That waiter seem out of place to you?"

"What, you mean the one white attendant at a formal Chinese dinner party?" he replied nonchalantly. "Hadn't noticed him."

She snorted at his blasé response, but persisted.

"He seems especially interested in you. Don't suppose you know him?"

"Never met him before in my life. But I think I recognize his face from somewhere."

"Well, seeing as we've already made a scene…" She drank her wine, caught the man's eye and raised her now-empty glass. He came over quickly and began to pour the wine when he suddenly lost control of the bottle.

"Sorry, Ma'am. I'll get you a new plate."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"What?"

She sighed. This man had no subtlety.

"Why were you staring at us?"

"I wasn…" he broke off at the raised eyebrow. "Okay, I was. I'm sorry. I'll go. It doesn't matter now anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked, thoroughly confused, noticing the man had trouble meeting his eyes. "What doesn't matter now?" The only answer he got was a quick glance at his phone, still displaying his wedding pictures, before the man resolutely looked forward once more.

"What I wanted to discuss with you is no longer relevant."

"Well, you've got my interest now. You may as well talk."

"Really – it's okay. Just keep her as happy as she is there."

"What?" then it clicked. " _Michael."_

"Yes, sir."

"Wow. You made it. We didn't think it was possible."

"It was a close thing. I assumed she assumed I was dead."

"Um…" Sasha said. "Care to introduce me?"

"Sorry. Sasha, meet Michael… I'm sorry Michael, Rachel never did tell me your last name…"

. . . .

Peng wandered over to the scene unfolding before him. He'd heard about the American man who'd shown up, seemingly desperate to work this event at the last minute. Out of curiosity, he'd made a note to allow it…and had him under observation the entire time. He'd noticed the way the man watched Chandler, and wondered what he'd do when he reached him. Given the blatantly public setting of their conversation that had continued for over a minute now, it was clear that the man was not a spy. Or if he was, he was a spectacularly bad one.

"…I was Rachel's boyfriend before the Red Flu. I didn't hear about the wedding until tonight."

Peng managed to cover his reaction with a cough as he approached the trio. He'd intended to chastise the waiter for pestering the guests, but that line shattered his plans and his assumptions in one blow. His cough had also stopped the conversation he'd meant to insert himself into.

"Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to interrupt."

"No worries." The waiter said. "I was just going."

"Michael, stay a moment."

"Sir, really. It's okay. You make her happy." Tom looked at him in disbelief. "I've never seen her smile like that before. Ever."

"I really _must_ meet this woman." Peng said, receiving two incredulous looks as the men turned towards him. "Nevermind, gentlemen. I have some more guests to talk to." He turned and walked away, chuckling in amusement. Looks like he didn't need to worry about a spy after all.

He looked over at a sudden flurry of activity – the Vietnamese delegation was on their phones, looking at each other frantically. He signaled for his aide and moved to investigate.


	19. Chapter 18

Amongst his worry for his crew (well, technically, it was Mike's crew now, but it would always be his crew) he glanced at the empty benches and spared a brief thought for Michael. From what little Rachel had said, their relationship had been slowly fading, but it looked like Michael had realized what he was losing too late. Tom had offered him a ride home, but he'd chosen to stay in China; he hadn't had much family to start with and he didn't want to move to a place where Rachel was a household name. Tom couldn't blame him.

His thoughts turned back to his crew once more, and the realization set in – protocol would keep the ship out in the harbor. He had to help his crew. He gathered his things and was halfway out the hatch when he heard Val's voice.

"Sir, wait!"

Tom ducked back in the plane.

"What is it?"

"This interference – I know what's causing it!"

"And?"

"We have a _serious_ problem."

"Define serious." He was a little exasperated. The James had been attacked, wasn't that serious enough?

"Someone back home is talking to the Chinese."

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. To talk."

"No, not like that. Here, look." She moved her screen so he could see.

 _You sent_ him _? I thought you wanted out of Asia, to focus on yourselves. Not on helping my enemies._

 _Michener may have misled him. Give us time, we'll steer things back on course._

"What the fuck?"

" _Someone's_ trying to sabotage these talks." She said unnecessarily.

"But who?"

"Unknown as yet, sir, but I'll keep looking." She pursed her lips. "I'll need the computers on the ship, sir."

"Can't you do it from home?"

"I trust the system on the Nathan James more than the one at the courthouse."

"Fair point. But we are going to have to fight our way there. You ready for that?"

"Gonna have to be." She said, putting her laptop in her bag.

The pilot stuck his head out of the cockpit.

"Sir, the tower has given us clearance."

"If we don't take off soon, they're going to start asking questions." Val said. "And we have to warn Michener."

"Right." He made a decision and pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling a hasty note to the president before folding it and handing it to the pilot. "Take off as scheduled. Do not tell anyone we're not aboard until you've landed. And then hand this directly to President Michener. Not his aide, not his chief of staff, not the vice president, the president himself. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." At Chandler's raised eyebrow, he confirmed the instructions. "Fly back on schedule, pretend you're on board, and then hand this to POTUS personally."

"Thanks."

"Good luck, sir."


	20. Chapter 19

Kara sat at her desk, stunned into silence.

Her captain was dead, killed when his plane went down somewhere over the Pacific. _Possibly one of the few ways you *could* kill that man._ She thought morbidly. In a plane crash, there was no enemy to fight against, and that meant Thomas Chandler was out of his element.

"Ma'am? What's wrong?"

Kara shook herself to look at the speaker.

"Mark."

"What's up?"

Kara forced herself to _think,_ dammit. Rachel needed to know. Right now, before she heard it elsewhere.

"Can you go and get Dr. Scott and bring her here? I need to tell her something in confidence."

"Of course. Is everything okay?"

"Please just get her, Mark. Quickly."

. . . .

Rachel sat in the back of the SUV, nausea rising along with a sense of foreboding. Mark swore he didn't know what was going on, but from the look on his face, he seemed to think it wasn't good. Tom had confided some of his concerns about this trip when he talked her out of going herself. Peng was apparently a vicious man, coming up through the Chinese intelligence service. He was so intent on keeping her out of Peng's reach that she'd spent most of his trip with a vague sense of physical unease. She did her best to keep from thinking the worst as her stomach roiled with what little she'd been able to eat this morning.

They pulled up to the courthouse, and they were ushered inside with unseemly haste. One look at Kara's tear-streaked face was all she needed.

"Kara, no."

"I'm so sorry." She said, pulling her into an embrace. "The plane went down."

Rachel stood there, letting the world exist without her as she processed the information. Tom was gone. And she'd only just gotten him. He was supposed to be safe now, conning a desk as the CNO. But after all the missions, all the raids, he dies on a diplomatic trip. Had he been right about Peng? Suddenly, she broke the embrace as her previous nausea returned full-force, aiming for the nearest trashcan. Kara was with her in an instant, helping her through until there was nothing left, then moving to the couch. Both women looked up as Michener entered the room.

"Dr. Scott – Rachel – I'm so sorry. I – there are no words."

"Get out."

He looked stunned at that response. He looked between both women, then the smell registered.

"I said, GET OUT! You sent him on this stupid mission, he's dead because of you!"

"It was a diplomatic mission!" he protested. "How was I supposed to know?"

"You're sure it wasn't Peng?"

His forehead creased at that. This certainly wasn't a direction he'd expected this conversation to take.

"What?"

"Tom didn't want me to go, and he said Peng was the reason why. _Are you sure it wasn't Peng?"_

"We have the radio traffic from the plane. It sounded like a malfunction." He said, though she detected a lack of certainty in that statement.

"Sounded like? How do you know?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't come up with a good answer to that. All they had was that recording - the plane had gone down in the middle of the Pacific. She pinned him with a glare.

"…I'm going to go ask some more questions. Let me see if we have any ships in the area." Michener said, turning to leave.

"You do that." She told his receding form.

"Do you really think it could have been on purpose?" Kara asked quietly.

"Yes. I was invited, too, but Tom wouldn't hear of it. He'd talked to Peng, and he didn't like him."

"Well…I suppose it's a good thing he didn't. I'd hate to have lost you too. And the kids have already lost one mother."

"Oh, god, the kids. Do they know?"

"No. They're sitting on the news for now, which is part of the reason we brought you here instead of sending an officer."

"What am I going to tell them, Kara?"

Kara looked at Rachel and saw her own worst fear. But Kara took a deep breath and answered as best she could, even though she knew Rachel wouldn't accept it. As she wouldn't be able to in her place.

"That their father did his job. They're Navy brats. I hate to say it, but we all know it could happen."

"But it wasn't supposed to! He was safe now – he hated that stupid desk, but I loved it."

"I know." Kara said. "Come on, let's get you home."

"No – I can't. Not yet. I can't tell them yet. And I can't _not_ tell them either."

Kara nodded. If Rachel needed some time to gather herself before breaking the news to the children, she'd give it to her.

"Alright. Why don't you go lay down on the couch?"

. . . . .

A gentle touch woke her.

Rachel blinked, sitting up. Where was she? She was on a couch…in the courthouse…why was she here? Then the memories came flooding back, and she felt bile rise in her throat. A trashcan was shoved in her face, and she took it, not that there was much left to expel. She put it down and took the proffered tissue from Kara.

"Thank you." Kara simply nodded, not knowing anything to say that would make things better. "What time is it?"

"About seven o'clock. I was going to suggest dinner, but clearly that can wait."

Rachel let out a bitter laugh.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to eat much since he left. Nerves, I guess."

"Nerves?"

"Stress goes straight to my digestive tract. I've been either un-hungry or actively nauseous since before he left for China." She noticed Kara's forehead crease briefly before her expression smoothed it away. "What's that look for?"

"What look, ma'am?"

"The look that says you had a thought."

Kara pursed her lips. She _had_ had a thought, but now was not the best time for it. If her suspicions were correct, it might soothe the pain a little…but if they weren't, it would only make things that much worse.

"Out with it, Kara." The look on the doctor's face wouldn't let her off the hook.

"Ma'am…Rachel…I'm sorry, I know it's none of my business…but… could you be pregnant?"

Kara watched as Rachel blinked, processing that question. Then, slowly, she nodded, fresh tears tracking down her face.

"I think…maybe I am. It's been long enough…I just hadn't realized…"

"You've been busy."


	21. Chapter 20

"Sir, we have a small boat headed our way."

"Warn them off." Burk replied.

"Vessel heading 3-5-2, divert course. You are on a collision course." The boat didn't react. "It's a small boat, sir. Maybe they don't have a radio."

"Maybe not. Have the lookout signal them visually. If they get too close, we'll have to fire a warning shot." He paused before continuing grimly. "Then a real shot." They didn't dare trust an unknown boat in these waters, even one that small – it still had plenty of room for explosives on it.

"Sir!" Said lookout burst onto the bridge. "That's Captain Chandler!"

"You're shitting me." Captain Chandler was dead.

"No sir, look for yourself sir!"

Burk grabbed the captain's binoculars and looked out at the boat. Sure enough, there was a man standing on the prow waving both hands in the air. He focused the lenses to get a better look at the man's face.

"I'll be damned." He said quietly. "Let's bring them aboard. I really want to hear this story."

. . . .

"Damn glad to see you sir. What the hell happened?"

"Peng's an asshole, and someone on our side is a traitor."

"What!?"

"It's a long story – how about we take this inside?"

"Right, sorry sir. Let's get you some food and a change of clothes." He looked over the captain's rather bedraggled entourage and included them in the invite. "What size are you guys, anyway?"

Val and Sasha exchanged a look and laughed.

"Nice try, Burk." Val replied.

"Good to see you haven't changed, Val. Care to introduce us to your new friends?"

"Well, Wolf you know. Sasha here was our contact in China."

"Naval intelligence." Sasha clarified.

"And Michael here was the only one smart enough to bring a boat to the party."

"Thanks for helping us out, man. Whatever you need, let us know. The Navy is grateful. Maybe we could get you a new boat." He offered. The boat they'd arrived on was, to put it kindly, well-traveled. Michael was a little offended.

"That boat saved my life, man."

"…or fix yours up." Burk added diplomatically, glancing back at the small craft on the deck as the party went below.

. . . .

"So the president never got our message."

"If you gave it to the pilot, sir, no."

"How do we warn Michener? Without telling anyone we're alive?"

"Val, any ideas?"

"Well, I can probably encrypt a message. But we would still need to pick a key that only someone we trust would know – and somehow tell them that key in a way that others wouldn't guess."

"Who can we trust in the government?"

"Kara." Val replied. "But what excuse do we have to send _her_ , specifically, a private message? Lt. Green's not even on board."

"What about Dr. Scott?" Sasha suggested.

"What about her?"

"We could send her a private message pretty easily."

"What, some new data file on why the virus isn't working?"

"I suppose that could work. But I was thinking of Michael."

Burk was confused.

"Boat guy? Why?"

"Apparently, before the Red Flu, he was in a relationship with Dr. Scott." Sasha explained. Val watched in amusement as Burk had trouble processing that information.

"What, women aren't allowed to have previous relationships?" she snarked.

"I mean, yeah. It's just before the flu hit, none of us knew her as anything other than that egghead scientist who liked to freeze her butt off in the snow. And drag us along for the trip."

Chandler chuckled. Apparently, his initial assessment of Rachel was fairly common.

"No offense, sir." Burk added quickly.

"None taken. I was just as annoyed with her and her damn birds."

"So we just need to talk Michael into talking with her."

"He doesn't want to talk to her?" The women at the table just looked at him with pity at his naivete until he thought about it for a minute. "Right."

"I'll talk to him." Sasha volunteered.

. . . .

She found Michael looking over the railing at nothing in particular.

"It'll get better, you know." She said quietly. His response was to raise a skeptical eyebrow at the newcomer. "No, really." He scoffed and looked for an exit.

"Hey, want to know a fun fact?" she said, neatly cornering him against the railing. His expression said otherwise, but she wasn't giving him much of a choice, so he nodded as he looked back out to sea. "I dated Tom Chandler in the academy." He froze, then slowly turned to face her. "Really."

"Okay…what happened?"

"Mutual break. We were good together, but a career in naval intelligence isn't exactly compatible with a command track, and we were both super into our careers at that point…so we broke it off. I cried for months."

"But you got over it." He said flatly.

"Eventually."

They stood in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

"So what do you want? I doubt you tracked me down solely to engage in a support group session of famous people's exes."

"Perceptive. I like you." She nodded approvingly. "We need you to talk to Rachel. Or at least let her know you're alive."

"I already told you, I don't want to talk to her."

"I know. But we need to send her a personal, eyes-only message – without letting anyone know that Tom and Val are alive. We need to write a message that is believably yours, so that it gets through the system to her, and then put a message to her inside it about what's going on."

"Do I actually have to talk with her?"

"Perhaps briefly. But we're already having video communication difficulties; it won't be hard to claim that voice coms are patchy too. Just enough to convince her it's really you and to read a letter. It will be encrypted, so only her and us will be able to read it."

He was silent for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.

"When do you need it?"

"As soon as possible."

"Alright. Let's get started."


	22. Chapter 21

Jed was walking back to the couch when he heard sobbing coming from the office once more. Not unusual, not these days, but it was starting to feel…off. She and Kara met regularly, and on the surface it made perfect sense. Both were missing their husbands; he expected a certain commiseration, and understood unscheduled tears. Worse, the revelation of Rachel's ex's survival had hit the tabloids; she'd become a virtual hermit in response. But lately, he'd been getting a very…secretive… vibe whenever he saw the two together. He glanced at the kid's rooms, finally asleep since it was midnight, and decided the hell with it. With barely a knock on the door, he went into the office to find Rachel slamming her laptop shut.

"Hey there." He said, closing the door behind him.

"You do know the point of knocking is to be _invited in_ , right? She said coldly.

"What, so I can give you time to squirrel away your secrets and pretend nothing's wrong?"

"Yes, things are _just peachy_ with Tom gone!"

He sighed.

"Rachel, something _is_ wrong. More than Tom dying. There's something else you're not telling me. And frankly, Rachel, you're not good at it, and it's not good for you." He watched her face as he spoke – she flinched at the word 'dying'. "He's dead, Rachel, and it hurts. There's no sugar coating it. But the rest of us are still here, and you can talk to us about it." He sat down and spoke softly. "I've been there, you know. After my wife died, I hid from the world too. Until Tom joined me with a couple of cases of beer and we got drunk enough that weekend to mourn her properly."

"So you're suggesting I need to get drunk, and then I'll be over it?" she asked, highly skeptical.

He scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed.

"No Rachel, that is not what I'm saying. I'm saying that Chandler men – and possibly the British – are too stiff-necked to admit what they need or ask for help. For us, the beer helped. I'm not saying a weekend is enough time, but it broke the wall of denial and let us start to heal." He looked at her as she processed that. "If you _want_ me to get a case of beer, I will. Or whatever your favorite drink is."

Fresh tears started down her face, and she reached for a new tissue.

"You're very kind, Jed. But I don't think alcohol will help this." She said, tacitly admitting that Jed was right.

"And what is 'this', anyway?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you. Or anyone."

"What, is it classified?"

"Basically, yes."

"Basically? It either is or it isn't, Rachel. The government's very specific about that sort of thing. And I'm going with 'isn't', if it makes you cry randomly. So…out with it."

"I _can't_. He asked me not to. And I agree with him."

"Him?" Something about the way she said it struck a chord in him. "Who's _him_?" He watched her face and saw guilt. " _Tom?_ " she didn't say anything, but the look on her face was all the confirmation he needed. "What the hell, Rachel, why?"

Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her computer and typed in her password before showing him the screen. He looked it over, seeing a letter from Michael, sent to her via the Nathan James.

… _That boat is the reason I'm alive. I found it abandoned mid-plague, took it out into the sea – just far enough to barely see land – and dropped anchor. I lived off fish and rainwater for almost six weeks…_

Then, there was a shift in the writing of the letter, almost as if someone else were writing it, as the narrative became ever direr (apparently being an American in China was hazardous right now). Something niggled at Jed's brain as the letter began to wrap up – something that became clear when he read the final line: 'Until I see you again'. The Chandler family had a long tradition of military service, and that line had been used when writing letters home for generations.

"Holy shit, Rachel. The whole ex-boyfriend thing was a ruse?"

"Yes and no. Michael really is alive – I talked to him, and there are things in the beginning of that letter only he would know. But Tom is alive too, as you can see."

"Wow." This was a hell of an emotional rollercoaster. He looked at his daughter-in-law and was retroactively impressed with how well she'd kept herself together.

"You can't tell anyone. They'll try to kill him again."

"I won't." He agreed. "I assume Kara knows?"

"Yes."

"Is there anyone else you can trust?"

"I'm not telling _anyone_ else, Jed."

"And I'm not asking you to. I'm asking if there's someone you can turn to if things go sideways." She looked at him, confused.

"Rachel, there's someone that wants Tom dead. If he shows up alive before he takes care of his enemies, and they can't reach him, they will reach for his family. Now, is there someone here that you trust in addition to Kara?"

Rachel suddenly pushed him out of the way and ran to the sink, retching. That possibility was clearly not something she had considered; he instantly regretted bringing it up. He could have taken precautions himself and saved her the worry.

"Rachel, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to…" He waited until she stopped. It didn't take long.

"I should have thought of that."

"We'll be okay. I'll take care of it, okay?" he offered, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. She briefly patted it in appreciation before reaching for the toothbrush next to the sink. "Uh, Rachel, why do you keep a toothbrush at the office sink?" He knew why there was a sink here, but it still seemed strange to have a toothbrush here in the office when he knew she had one just down the hall. Then, suddenly, other facets of her strange behavior clicked. "You're a better actor than I gave you credit for."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're pregnant."

The toothbrush paused halfway to her mouth and slowly lowered back to the sink.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Tom should have been the first to know. I don't want him to find out from some tabloid about his 'grieving pregnant widow'. They're already having a damn field day as it is."

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"Worse, when I do go out, it's all I can do to accept condolences for a man who, last I heard, isn't dead. If people find out I'm pregnant, it just gets more awkward. And I just can't handle that right now."

"Okay, okay. Our little secret." He said, pulling her into a hug. She resisted at first, but then relaxed and leaned into it. They stood there for a while, silent tears dampening his shirt until she sniffed loudly and stood up.

"Now I know where Tom gets his hugs from. I needed that."

"Anytime." he said sincerely. "Now let's get you to bed. You need your rest."


	23. Chapter 22

Dr. Scott's expression was shuttered and unreadable; she refused to tell Allison Shaw anything. The teenager they'd grabbed with her – an aide Allison recognized from the courthouse – was looking around like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He was clearly worried, but it was also clear he had some loyalty to Dr. Scott. How strong that loyalty was had yet to be determined. Suddenly, there was a ruckus at the door, and Allison looked up from Dr. Scott as another of her teams returned with an old man and two children. The old man was injured, bloody, and scared, but he was also furious. Her team seemed to return the favor, glaring at the old man whenever their eyes met. A quick head count of said team came up short.

"Where's Jack?"

"Not coming." Fred said angrily. She spotted a brief flash of satisfaction from the old man and did the math.

"That's unfortunate." And it was; she thought she had hired more than mere muscle. If they hadn't paid enough attention to their briefing to recognize the physical threat this 'old man' presented, well, they were morons. She turned to follow sudden cries of recognition as the children ran towards Dr. Scott. Jed followed, pausing only to shoot daggers at Allison as he passed her.

"Oh good, we're all together now." She turned to the terrified children they'd nabbed and addressed them directly. "In case you're wondering, the reason you're here is that it turns out your traitorous father is alive." Bewilderment joined fear on their faces, but then she looked at the adults. "You knew."

"Yes." Rachel replied, turning to the kids who looked up at them, hurt. "He asked me not to tell _anyone_. It was safer if the people trying to kill him thought he was already dead." She paused, debating. "And he didn't want you guys to have to mourn him twice, if it came to that. He's still in a very dangerous place." Ashley seemed to comprehend that, though she still looked hurt. Sam, however, didn't.

"You told Granddad."

"No, I didn't." she said, glancing at Jed.

"I caught her looking at his message late one night. But I did what your father asked, and didn't tell anyone. It was supposed to be safer that way."

"And it was. For him." Allison said bluntly. "Now you're bait."

"Oh, fuck you." Blurted out Mark. _Well, that answers that._ Allison thought.

"In your dreams, kiddo." She addressed the group as a whole. "Time to move out." She said, nodding at the guards.

"All right, let's go. We've got a plane to catch!" Rachel flinched at the guard's harsh voice behind her. "Come _on_." The man insisted, grabbing her shoulder roughly. Rachel heard a snarl behind her from Jed, but it was quickly cut off by the click of a gun safety. She rose from her seat and moved as ordered, reaching out take the children's hands as they were moved towards a black SUV.

. . . . .

Rachel sat in the back of the plane and waited, teeth clenched. As much as she wanted to see Tom right now, she didn't want him to come here. But she knew he would. Soon enough, the door opened and in walked… Tex.

"Tex!"

"Hey, darlin'. How you holding up?"

"I've been better." She replied. "You?"

"Y'know, I had a nice little place out in the country. I was all set to retire from this crazy life and then y'all pull me back in."

"Sorry, Tex."

"It's alright, c'mon, time to go."

The group rose to leave, but Allison raised her hand.

"Not you, Dr. Scott. Not until after the captain's aboard."

"I'll stay with Rachel." Jed volunteered as the kids left.

"Nu-uh. You're coming. Captain's orders." Tex said.

"Doctor's orders too, Jed." Rachel insisted. "I'll be alright. Go, get that shoulder looked at."

"You're sure?"

"Take care of them. Go." She insisted, leaving unsaid the growing suspicion they both had. He nodded, understanding her concern and agreeing to relieve one of her fears. It wasn't long after Jed had left that Tom arrived.

"Tom!" She threw herself into his arms and felt them squeeze around her with almost crushing force.

"Rachel." He breathed into her ear, relaxing a bit. "God, I was so worried."

"Me too."

He spent some time simply holding her in his arms, reassuring himself that she was really there and it was really her. Then it started to register that something was different. It was Rachel, all right, but she was subtly different. He pulled her tightly to him once more.

"Rachel, are – " he was silently reminded of their audience by nails digging into his side. "- you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine, Tom. Really."

"Well, there's that at least." Then something else registered – the sound of engines revving. He looked back and the door had been closed. "Hey! You said you'd let her go!"

"We lied."

"The children are safe, Tom, that's what matters. Jed will take care of them."

He looked at her in disbelief. How could she say that when _she_ was here?

"Relax, Captain. Your wife is safe, as long as you do exactly as we say. Hell, we'll even get her some pre-natal vitamins if you behave well." Allison looked amused at Dr. Scott's stricken look. "Yes, I noticed."

"What? How?"

"Most people, when threatened, protect their heads first."

It took a couple of seconds for Tom to process that, and then he saw red, lunging at the bitch in front of him. It took all three men – and Rachel's pleas – to restrain him.

"Now, now captain. Remember what I said about behaving?" she turned to the guards. "Cuff him."

Once he was cuffed and seated, Rachel was allowed to sit next to him as Allison settled in for the flight. held his hand as he made an effort to calm himself.

Then a voice came from the cockpit.

"Uh, Ms. Shaw?"

"What?"

"The landing gear is stuck."

"So?"

"It means we can't taxi."

Allison glared at Chandler, somehow sure he was responsible.

"Don't look at me because you can't keep your plane in working order."

She eyed him suspiciously before going to the cockpit. They heard her speak in harsh but quiet tones to the pilots before one of them sighed, got up, and moved to open the door once more as Allison sat down facing her hostages.

…

Bill muttered vilely to no one in particular as he wrangled with the landing gear. He was just a pilot. How in the hell had he ended up in the middle of a goddamn coup d'etat? Then, finally, he wrenched the mechanism loose and worked its motion a couple of times before buttoning the system back up.

"All good now?" an overly friendly drawl asked, far too close for comfort. He slowly turned to see the man from before holding a gun.

"Uh…yeah."

"Do me a favor? Borrow your hat and shirt?"

"Um…"

"I'll give you a good thirty seconds head start before I make my move." Bill looked at the nearest hangar exit, considering. "Well? I ain't got all day." Coming to a decision, Bill began to unbutton his collar.

…

Tex, having donned his new hat and shirt, walked towards the open door. He was roughly the same build as the pilot, though he admitted the beard was probably going to give him away sooner than he'd like. He kept his head down as he moved up the stairs; from above, they should just see the hat.

"Can we get on with it already?" Allison said, annoyed. She didn't even look his way.

"Mmhm." He replied with a nod, turning as if to go to the cockpit.

"Good, let's go."

"Hey, wait a – " One of the guards started, but all his observational skills got him was the first kill shot. The one standing next to him was next. The third and final guard got a couple of wild shots off, hitting Tex in the leg and the window next to him, but Tex got him too. Allison looked on in shock as her security team went down, but found her courage as Tex staggered against the bulkhead, moving to pull a sidearm from one of her men. Tex rewarded her initiative with another round. A quick glance around the small plane confirmed that the only people left alive were himself, Tom, Rachel, and the co-pilot, whose arms were raised in surrender.

"Y'all good?" he asked, looking on as Rachel uncoiled from her husband's side.

"Yes, thank you, Tex." Came a cool British accent that was at complete odds with her dilated pupils.

"We're fine." Confirmed the captain as he looked for the keys to release himself. "Though it would have been nice to have a conversation or two with her."

"She was reaching for a weapon." Tex shrugged unrepentantly.

"I know. I'm not blaming you for it, just wishing. It'd be nice to know who all was involved."

"Well, for now, it's over."

"Thanks, Tex. I owe you one."

Tex laughed, then winced, reminding them both about his leg. Rachel immediately transformed into doctor mode.

"Tom, help me with Tex… it doesn't look too bad, but we do need to stop the bleeding."

"Just one second." He picked up a gun and moved to the cockpit, also reverting to the professional mode. "You – come on." He escorted the pilot out to find his team waiting for him and began to issue orders once more.


End file.
